For These Scars
by RinoaDestiny
Summary: When their relationship is discovered, followed by devastating consequences, Kyo and Iori need to decide where they stand with each other and how to continue in an uncertain future. Not all fights can be won but that doesn't mean they'd go without a struggle. (Kyo/Iori with light BL in later chapters). [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

**Comments**: Because my brain cannot simply let me enjoy happy stuff for long, this story came out of the woodwork days after "Life Line". I got sad even hearing it unfold in my head as the day went on. So, I've written a few Kyo/Iori fics already and in those, they tend to avoid scrutiny. However, in this one, reality ensues and oh, does it. Does it, ever.

Chapters will flip between Iori's point-of-view and Kyo's. I don't intend for this one to be very long (have enough long fics already to manage), but since the idea's not leaving, it needs a place to go. It needs room to breathe and develop besides inside of my head, which is a chaotic place right now.

* * *

It was the harsh knock on his door at three in the afternoon which first alerted Iori to trouble. Most of the apartment tenants were either out to work – salarymen working long hours – or high-schoolers not yet home due to clubs or cram school. That usually meant quiet afternoons and most of the time, no one bothered him. His landlord, if needed, would simply drop him a note in his box. He made an effort to check it twice every week, since he did have bills to pay and junk mail to get rid of. Afternoons were usually his – he was playing his guitar right now, working on a new piece – and Kyo tended to stop by either earlier in the morning or around eight at night.

No one he knew would be knocking on his door at this time.

Placing his cherished guitar aside on its stand, he removed himself from the couch and approached the door. There was yet another knock – force behind the blow – and that made all his fighter's senses run high, pumping adrenaline into his blood.

Who was standing outside looking for him?

Then, he heard the voice. Someone had lost patience. Apparently, knew he was here.

"I know you're in there, Iori Yagami. Open the door."

What the hell was Saisyu Kusanagi doing here? Why was Kyo's old man…

His blood ran cold. Did he know? Was that why he was –

"If you don't open the door right now, I'm going to melt the hinges and come in anyway. Do not make me."

There was nothing friendly or conciliatory in the other man's tone. Iori knew, if he refused, that Saisyu would make good on his word and storm in, wreathed in flames. He wished to avoid a violent confrontation at all costs with Kyo's father. Their long-standing feud was dead, insofar as Iori was concerned. Being on extremely good terms with his former rival did that, as well as maintaining as secret a relationship with him as possible.

This caused his blood to turn to ice again. How did Saisyu Kusanagi know his address? It wasn't as if he told anyone about his and Kyo's clandestine meetings. Kyo, he knew, promised to be discreet. So Kyo wouldn't have said anything, given anything away…

"Open up the door, you Yagami scum."

He did, because right at that moment, the heat wave hit him through the door.

Saisyu had brought out the flames as promised and was about to destroy the entrance way. He'd never known Saisyu to be a violent, blunt, or unpleasant man but he was quickly amending his belief about that. When it came to their clans, the hatred still lived within the old guard and young as he was, Saisyu wasn't playing nice with him.

That was understandable. He wasn't exactly kind to Kyo before, either.

But he had no quarrel with the old man, so why…

The moment his door opened, Saisyu barreled through with enough force to throw him back. Quick on his feet, Iori realigned his balance, adjusting his stance but refusing to bring up his hands. He didn't want to fight the old man. The feud was dead. Over. If he fought and hurt Saisyu Kusanagi or accidentally killed him, Kyo as heir of the Kusanagi clan would be forced to take revenge. He knew how it worked, how it ran in their families' histories since the betrayal and divide. He had to maintain control of himself here. Play defensive. It ran counter to all his training, all his experience in the arena and outside of it.

But he refused – Orochi in his head be damned – to draw blood on the man across from him. Because it'd be his fault, no matter who started it.

The door closed behind Saisyu Kusanagi. It was the loudest click Iori ever heard in his life. The man stepped forward, brows drawn together and every line in his body was intent on some unknown action.

Iori stepped back, unconscious he'd done so. Something was wrong here.

What was it?

"How'd you find me?" he asked, his voice loud in the silence.

"I have my means," Saisyu Kusanagi responded and Iori noticed then that he was dressed in the full garb of his clan. Whereas Saisyu usually wore the green kimono with the sun crests and his _hakama_, this time, he came clad in formal wear. Black _haori_ with crests on both sleeves and on both sides of the collar, the sun crest in embroidered gold. This wasn't just some casual visit – this was business and Saisyu meant for him to know whom and what he represented.

Kyo might've been the heir but Saisyu was the Kusanagi head patriarch.

One head patriarch against the heir of a once strong clan.

Iori resisted stepping back again. The hairs rose on the back of his neck. What was this about? Why the waiting game?

"Why are you here?"

"What are you doing with my son, Yagami?"

His gut curled tight, went cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play the fool with me," Saisyu said and it was as if the temperature in the apartment dropped. "You think I don't know?"

How'd he find out? Through whom? What gave it away?

"Your sources misled you."

"They do not lie. You do. You are. Tell me, Yagami…what exactly are you doing with my son?"

"Nothing. I –"

Saisyu made a single gesture and Iori stepped back in time to avoid a wave of flame crackling in the spot where he once stood. Sweat dripped down his face, down his back, spotting his shirt. He clenched his fists. Stood his ground. Refused to fight.

"A liar as always. Just like your father. Just like the rest of your worthless clan."

He was going to ignore that, because it didn't matter. Not anymore.

"I have nothing to –"

"You do."

"Go ask your son if you want to know so much. Why are you here?"

"To hear it from you. Because I know, Yagami. I know what you're doing and what you've been hiding. You and my son both."

Iori made a choice, then. He couldn't let Kyo take the blame. To suffer his father's wrath. He had to deflect this away from Kyo, because... Because if he really cared for Kyo, he wouldn't allow Kyo to be maligned. They'd made their own decisions – conscious and completely mutual – but only they understood that. Saisyu Kusanagi standing before him, judgment in his eyes, wouldn't. In the end, he had to shoulder the blame.

"Does he know you're here?"

"What does that concern you?"

"He doesn't need to know. None of this…"

"I'll deal with my son in my own time."

"He did nothing wrong."

"Then, I'm not wasting any more time here."

He'd kept his sights on Saisyu, wary since the moment the man showed up outside his door and so Iori glimpsed the subtle movement of his foot. Throwing himself backward, using his leg as an anchor to keep his balance, he watched as Saisyu's hand arced right past him. A trail of bright orange flame followed, heat shimmering in the air. Still, he forced himself to remain defensive, nails digging hard into his palms. He didn't want to fight. Not at home. Not right now.

Not against Kyo's old man.

Saisyu moved again and Iori barely had time to blink, let alone process the speed as the other's arm arose, black sleeve swirling in his wake. It aimed for his face, for his eyes. Without hesitation, he threw his arm up to deflect the path of the attack. The blow that took him in the chest – the immediate follow-up – smashed hard against his sternum. Something snapped, pain ice-cold and numb and his strength sapped in that instant.

Heat and flame on the heels of that, Saisyu's fingertips gouging into his flesh and the agony was such that Iori couldn't even scream. It was too much at once and he had no strength left to resist, let alone manifest actual signs of pain.

Fire in his veins, burning and heat went through him like a vicious wave, undermining whatever reserves he had left. It was worse than the Riot of Blood, worse than Kyo's Orochinagi, worse than many things he'd suffered.

It left him hollow, burnt out but alive.

It was worse than death and he had no idea what it was.

When Saisyu was done, he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, gravity pulling all of him down into a limp heap. His skin blistered where the internal heat flowed and through the pain, through the haze, he realized it was all going to scar. He'd been marked – the action was deliberate – and he knew, between the broken sternum and the burns that he needed to seek medical attention. Already, it was getting hard to breathe – fire in his lungs – and he didn't want to die.

"Why?"

Getting the word out was hard. Everything hurt.

Saisyu looked down at him, implacable. His voice was winter, was ice. "For what you did to my son."

"I…I didn't hurt him. I wouldn't…"

"You corrupted him!"

That hurt, even knowing what Saisyu thought of him; Iori flinched at his tone. The Kusanagi patriarch was stern, unforgiving – there was nothing to forgive; he hadn't done anything wrong – and the other man's voice didn't change as he continued talking.

"Like father, like son. Would it interest you to know this exact technique took your father out during our little rivalry? He never fought again after that."

_No…_

"To think I'd visit it upon you years later. You could have avoided it, if you didn't meddle."

"I didn't…"

"My son has a life and a future. None of which require you in it."

"But I…" Heat with every breath. Cold in his chest, a different kind of burning.

"I'm going to make this very clear, Iori Yagami. You only get this warning once. There will be no afters. No second chances."

Night coming down fast, swift and merciless like death over whatever joy he managed to grasp.

"If you approach him, if you even contact him, I'll bring the rest of the clan – without him – and give you such a death that there won't even be ashes left. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

He'd thought his father terrifying. Saisyu Kusanagi would be in his nightmares for the rest of his life, if he didn't die tonight.

"But…Kyo…"

He never got further than that.

Saisyu's voice was steel, was cold controlled rage. "You're never seeing him again. I'll make sure of that."

A death – his happiness crushed, trampled – inexorable, relentless.

"This will be the last time _I_ see you, Iori Yagami. Do not make me come a second time."

The second time would be his last.

Iori closed his eyes, unable to muster any response. He…he didn't have the strength for it. Or the words for it. He was also very close to the edge of losing control…of…

The door opened. Closed.

Saisyu Kusanagi had left. Hadn't said anything. He'd done his deed, said his words, and left him for dead on the floor of his own apartment. Because his life was nothing to him. Would mean nothing to _him_ without Kyo.

He wanted to cry. Instead, he fumbled for his phone, unable to feel his hands past the lingering burning pain. Forced his consciousness to last long enough to call for the ambulance. Darkness crashed down after, light fading until all sensation passed.


	2. Chapter 2 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 2~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

"Come on, Yagami. Pick up."

He was supposed to meet Iori tonight at his place – eight o' clock as usual – but he'd made it a habit to call and check just in case. Yagami tended to be preoccupied sometimes with an active band schedule or he just wanted to enjoy his afternoons. So Kyo usually called at five, which gave them at least a three hour window should plans change. That had worked for the last six months and Iori appreciated the gesture, since he had more to do with his time. But that also meant picking up calls and Iori tended to be fastidious about that. The other man had subtle quirks – only revealed when they got close – and Yagami's iron-clad punctuality was one of them.

So it didn't make sense when his texts weren't returned within the hour.

Or his calls left hanging, unanswered.

Kyo frowned, looking down at his phone. It was a little past six and still nothing.

Was Yagami sick? Called away on business? Or just asleep?

He had a spare key to Yagami's apartment, given to him within the first month but he didn't use it often. Whatever hours Yagami set, he respected. The last thing he needed to do was barge in, intruding on a quiet hour. Iori had more patience for him nowadays, but even he knew his limits and how tight a hold the other man kept over his temper. Until he got to know Yagami, he didn't believe the other had self-control.

That was one of the many things he'd been proven wrong about.

Iori also really did hate violence. In the six months they'd been together – early mornings and late nights shrouded in secrecy – the other maintained a calm demeanor. This was broken occasionally by Orochi's intrusion into Iori's mind, which caused the other a fair amount of agitation. Supposedly, if he understood it correctly, the god demanded to know why his follower – Yagami had scoffed at that and loudly – was in bed with the enemy and not murdering him where he lay. Those were the only times Yagami got violent and from his observation, Iori hated them all the more for disturbing his peace.

It was one of the other nuances about the man he got to know as time went on.

Looking back now, it was hard to believe they were once rivals, hatred keen and unyielding. Until something happened between them – Yagami coming to terms with his obsession and how hatred gave way to genuine affection (difficult to comprehend at first) – and how that altered everything. His amusement at his former rival's diehard attitude towards him, his method of teasing the other man at every meaningless death threat, and even that changed. Somehow. He wasn't sure when the changes affected them both, but they couldn't go back after that.

Kyo doubted their ancestors saw this in their clans' futures. It just didn't seem possible.

It was fifteen after six now and his phone was silent.

No return calls. No texts back. Nothing.

He had dinner with his family first. After that, he'd drop by Yagami's place, see what was up. Because this was strange. Iori didn't break routine, didn't just go off the map. He just wanted to make sure he was okay.

But that came after. Eight o' clock was his usual time. Going to eat with his family was also routine and part of the maintenance of secrecy. Because if he broke routine, that would appear odd and he didn't need anyone cluing in on what he did during his unstructured time. During his late evenings or his early morning hours.

Kyo pocketed his phone, put his helmet on, revved up his bike, and took off towards home.

* * *

Dinner was uneventful, though his mom cooked up his favorites and his dad imbibed a bit of _sake_. Kyo, not much of a drinker, avoided the alcohol and focused on finishing his soup, rice, pickled vegetables, and fish. He tried not to appear hurried – that'd give him away – but his mind constantly went back to the unanswered calls and texts. The spare key was in his room, kept secreted away (he didn't want anyone to find it), and he needed to get it before leaving.

Yagami lived half an hour away, reachable by train. Even if he left a bit late, he didn't think Iori would mind. Kyo was more lax with punctuality – except for during the tournaments – and the other man really didn't seem to mind at nighttime. Not when nighttime meant settling down, quiet words exchanged – sometimes laughter and what passed for humor when it came to Yagami's dry wit – and then physical actions besides fighting (although he'd quipped before that that passed as foreplay). Yagami had given him a look, guffawed, and then quipped back to stop being ironic or poetic. Or whatever the hell he was trying to say.

They didn't say much afterwards, anyway.

Kyo kept his face neutral. When his mind ran down memories like these, it was easy to betray himself unknowingly. He had an estimate of the time – was finishing his meal – and if he left soon, he'd be able to catch the next train out to Yagami's place.

He hoped he was okay. Just asleep or working on a piece, which often needed concentration.

He refrained from checking his phone. That, too, would give him away.

When the time rolled to twenty after seven, Kyo placed his chopsticks down on his rice bowl, complimented his mother for the excellent meal, and prepared to head to his room. His mind was already on route to Iori's apartment, to check in and see how things were going.

His dad's voice broke into his thoughts. "Kyo, son…you heading somewhere?"

"Yeah. Got some event to go to."

"I see. I need to talk to you for a bit. Mind if you join me?"

Kyo hesitated but recovered quickly. "Sure." He hoped this discussion wouldn't take long. If he missed this train, the next one wouldn't arrive until twenty minutes later. He didn't want to be that late.

"Let's leave your mother in peace and quiet. Come on – let's head to my study."

His dad's study was in the left wing of their traditional compound, far from the center and therefore, perfect for matters such as this. Kyo followed, walking down corridors he knew from memory – _shoji_ running down the hall and _tatami_ in each room – until they reached the study. It smelled pleasantly of ink and paper, of the red paste used for their name stamps and his dad turned on the small desk lamp, green glass aglow, for night was soon to fall.

They were two weeks into April and the days were still short.

"Sit down, son."

Huh. So this was going to be a long conversation, then? Kyo wondered what his dad wanted to talk about. He couldn't think of anything particularly urgent or important. He sat down, puzzled.

"So what's this event you're going to? I know you usually give details in advance, just in case something happens."

Was that what this was about? "There's a concert new in town. The latest rock band."

"And they're playing tonight?"

"Yeah." He was really confused here. Why was this important? Why was his dad even asking this? It seemed trivial.

"Are you taking Yuki with you? A date, perhaps?"

"Huh?" That was usually a question his mom would ask, not his dad. Something was off here but he couldn't figure out what. "Yuki doesn't like rock music, Dad."

"So you're going alone?"

"Yeah." What was going on here?

"No one else?"

"What are you getting at, Dad?"

"You sure you're not meeting someone else there? Someone you don't want me to know about?"

Oh shit, what? What was his dad implying? That sounded dangerously close to… "What are you talking about, Dad?"

"Oh, Kyo, son…I expected better from you."

"What?"

"I know, son. About you and that Yagami boy. You weren't going to a concert tonight, were you? You were planning on meeting him."

Shock wasn't even the appropriate word to describe the sudden emotion he felt. Ripped free from his moorings, more like. Horror at the realization that his dad knew – how did he know? – and he was speechless for a minute, unable to formulate words to make any coherent response. He was stunned, as if felled by an executioner's hammer. Like a sacrifice at some ancient altar, the stench of blood and smoke in the air.

"I've known for a while, son. And I'm very disappointed."

Chills went down his back hearing that. Saisyu was rarely disappointed but when he was…

"Dad –"

"How long has this been going on, Kyo?"

"Dad, it's not –"

"The truth, Kyo. You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Although you already did, it seems. I taught you better than that."

"Dad, you need to listen to me. It's not –"

"Your mother doesn't know. Yuki doesn't know. How could I break the news to her – that her boyfriend – _my son_ – is fooling around behind her back with a boy. And not just any boy – your rival, our clan's enemy, someone I wouldn't trust with my _life_. A fact you seem to have conveniently forgotten."

"He's not…he's not the enemy anymore, Dad!"

"They never change. You have forgotten that too as well."

His father's study was suddenly constricting – too small, the walls closing in fast – and Kyo struggled to keep himself above the dangerous undercurrents of this discussion. His dad knew – _how?_ – and that meant Yagami was…could be…

A scary thought occurred to him. "Dad, have you done anything to him?"

"Why would he concern me? It's you I'm worried about."

The lack of response. The unanswered calls and texts. Was he simply paranoid?

"Kyo…your irresponsibility unfortunately requires me to take some desperate measures. You clearly cannot be counted on to fulfill your obligations to the clan."

What the hell did that mean?

"From today, you cannot leave the house unless you are accompanied by another member of the clan. Someone we all trust. Someone who cannot be subverted."

"I'm not a child –"

"You certainly are not a man if this is the action you take!" His father shot back, the words sharp and cutting. "Until you lose this foolishness about that boy –"

"I'm not a child anymore! I do not have to –"

"Yes, you do. Sit down, Kyo. Sit down and listen, because I'm not done yet."

Somehow, he'd risen to his feet during that last bit of shouting and as his father's words sank in, Kyo realized something was coming to an end. It was lingering over the horizon, like the edge of a blade against his neck, and as he sat down, emotions swirling in complete turmoil, he knew what it was. His freedom, his relationship with Yagami, and Yagami…

The other man was happy now. What would this –

"I need the keys to your motorcycle. Anything that would allow you access to transportation. You clearly cannot be trusted."

His own father saying this to him…

"Dad…"

"Your keys, Kyo. I need your phone, too."

"That's not –"

"You're under my roof and you will follow my rules. You can either be acquiescent and filial or I'll have to call the clan's rules into effect. Which would you rather follow, Kyo? Don't make it difficult for me, son."

Like hell he was giving up the keys or his phone. Or anything that was – _is_ – his, for that matter. He was the heir – could and would make his own decisions. "I'm not giving you anything, Dad."

"Be very careful, Kyo."

"You cannot do this."

"I can and I will. The clan's interests come first. You know that, or you did, until you decided to lose your head over that Yagami boy –"

"Will you stop calling him that?"

"He's the enemy, Kyo. Always has been and always will. No matter how much you deceive yourself."

"You don't even know him!"

"Why would I need to?"

"This is pointless!" he growled, rising to his feet again. "I don't need to listen to this!"

"Kyo, son…"

"Don't 'son' me! I'm leaving."

He would have, too, if it wasn't for the fact that he was suddenly aware of multiple presences outside his father's study. When they'd walked in here, they'd been alone. No one else had accompanied them and the hallways had been empty. Had been. They must've come in and stood waiting outside during their conversation, which by now was very heated. Kyo was furious – _what did his dad know about Yagami anyway?_ – and this intrusion by other members of the clan only pissed him off even more.

"You had –"

"I told you, son. You cannot be trusted. Now will you go willingly or do we have to take extreme measures? I don't want to fight you, son but I will if I have to."

Kyo seethed. He clenched his fists, reddening.

"So this is how you do things, huh? Underhanded like some –"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, Kyo."

"What are you waiting for?" he barked, directing his voice – rage and hostility honed and keen like a sword edge – to those standing outside. "You're here to take me, aren't you? Do it already!" He slammed the _shoji_ door open and stepped out – back straight, chest forward, and eyes straight ahead, glaring.

If he was to be a prisoner confined within his own home, so be it for now. But he wasn't going to let it happen by cowering. By submitting to his father without any say of his own.

He'd play along for now. For now.

He was still going to leave somehow and find Yagami.

Like hell his father was going to separate them. Like hell.


	3. Chapter 3 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 3~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

When he finally surfaced back into light and consciousness, there was a tube in his throat, an IV drip in his arm, a nurse changing his dressings, and a doctor standing nearby. He was weak and sore, still burning hot within and the sudden brightness hurt his eyes. He closed them again and felt the nurse's hand soft and cool against his forehead. Was he feverish? His body temperature had never been this high and…

Next to him, there was a steady beeping, precise and measured.

Murmuring around him, the coolness leaving his skin, and there were words exchanged which he couldn't make out. He kept his eyes closed – was exhausted, could drift off if given another minute to himself.

A fiddling sound. Metal and plastic. Something being switched. The same soft hand against his arm, checking the cold steel in his vein. A minor adjustment made and then the hand let go, gentle and reassuring.

The steady beeping lulled him to sleep, back into utter whiteness.

* * *

The second time he came to, his surroundings were clearer. Starker. He was in a single room, in an elevated bed and the beeping was from the heart monitor to his left. He still wasn't able to breathe on his own – he was still intubated – and nurses came and left. Some changed his dressings. Some checked his temperature – still high, still borderline feverish – and one of them switched his IV fluid bag before it ran empty. He soon gestured – his hands ached at the wrists – for paper and pen, since he couldn't communicate the usual way without discomfort.

They brought him what he asked for. The doctor also came.

He wrote; his hand shaky, characters scrawling on the smooth white page.

_Where am I?_

"You're in a hospital, Yagami-san," the young doctor said. He wore black-rimmed glasses and couldn't have been but a few years older than him. Doctor Yamashita, he read on the man's official name tag, which was pinned to the coat he wore. His head ached, throbbed behind his eyes. He closed them briefly, tried to suppress the sudden dizziness that overtook him.

The beeping to his left quickened – a swifter pace.

"Take it easy. You've been here a few days."

Opening his eyes again, he wrote on the pad, characters jagged and ugly: _How long?_

"You've been here four days. The previous hospital had to transfer you."

_Why?_

"You needed treatment for burns, Yagami-san. Specialization was required for that."

_The other hospital? What for?_

"According to your medical record, immediate emergency surgery. Your sternum was cracked and it affected your heart as well. Some minor tearing along the upper ribs where they joined the sternum. They had to stabilize you before sending you here. You almost died that night, Yagami-san. At one point, you stopped breathing. When they brought you back, they immediately sent you here. The burns were affecting your treatment, you see."

_How?_

The doctor looked down at his clipboard, at the notes on it. "Dehydration. Your lungs were filling with fluid – required draining but first we had to locate the cause of injury. Yagami-san, you have scarring in your lungs. We were also considering skin grafts for your other burns but…"

_What? What is it?_

"You don't have enough to enable that, unless we get it cultured and that takes time."

He almost dropped the pen, as comprehension gave way to shock.

"Except for your face, neck, hands, and feet, the rest of your body suffered second and third degree burns. We have it under control now but we monitored you for infection. Dehydration was something we took care of immediately."

He glanced at the IV fluid bag hanging from its steel stand and then followed its extension to the IV drip in his arm. Noticed for the first time the bandages wrapped around his arms and how they continued under his hospital gown's sleeves. He did have to put the pen down, then, because his hand started shaking. The beeping on his left picked up and it was as if his heart hammered against the confines of his chest, desperate to get out.

"Yagami-san, calm down."

He shut his eyes. Refused to open them.

His sternum. His burns. Bits and pieces began coming back – his mind resisting, not wanting to know – and then those minute memories turned to flood. Surged at him in a rush, brutal and unstoppable. The heat within shot up, overwhelmed him. He gasped and that hurt with the tube in his throat. But that didn't ache – didn't agonize him half so much as he _remembered_ and how remembering again tore his world asunder.

The knock at his door.

Saisyu Kusanagi demanding answers. Answers he didn't have to give.

His sternum breaking, ice-cold pain that stole his breath, robbed his strength. How his arm fell, how he would've fallen if not for Saisyu holding him upright, driving channeled heat through him like molten flame.

How he wanted to scream but couldn't. How it kept going on and on until it was done. Over.

Saisyu standing over him, above him, icy contempt and hatred plain on his face.

What he was told. How it was told to him.

The door closing. His world broken. His world still breaking.

He clenched his hands together, holding fast as though it kept him from falling apart. The doctor was speaking – he could hear sound – but he no longer knew the words. The only words that resounded were Saisyu's and each one echoed in his head like death knells.

He'd been burnt with fire but those words were scars upon his heart now.

He didn't know how to proceed from here, how to continue with those words…with…

He wanted to scream, to cry but couldn't. How was he to…how to even express…

Voices near him now. Soothing tones to offer comfort. There was no comfort here. There had been, but it'd been taken away from him and…

There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

Heat surged again – scalding, a scorching within – and then darkness claimed him, merciful once more.

* * *

His temperature refused to fall. Continued to hover around that threshold of fever, keeping him flushed and uncomfortable. He began to realize with a slow growing horror what had been done to him. Whatever technique Saisyu used – he also became aware that he'd never faced the other man before all this – turned his own body against him, created within him a perpetual furnace. An undying heat that circulated and peaked in intervals. It wasn't going away and probably never would. A fitting and vicious retribution to someone from the Yagami clan – the Kusanagi flame always punishing, always devouring, always burning. He turned his head, felt sweat roll down into his hair, dampening it and then seeping into the pillow beneath him.

He'd been burned before but this…

This was…

His mouth was dry, his eyes were hot, his skin stretched too tight on his face – spared because he wasn't permitted a quick end – and the doctor said…

He shut that thought down before it arose. Before it became painful to dwell upon.

The nurse watching him stood up, felt his forehead – smoothing his hair aside – and murmured something soft and gentle. He thought she said, "It's okay. It's okay," but the air seemed to shimmer around him, darkness encroaching again with fatigue and his hearing zoned out, sounds becoming mere echoes in the stillness…

* * *

He asked for his belongings, if he had any with him when he was taken in. The nurse assigned to his floor brought over the few things he had. It wasn't much. His wallet. His keys. His phone. He fumbled with it, opening it with trembling fingers and then froze. Stared in disbelief, in agony, with emotions he couldn't pin down.

Kyo had called. Had texted. At five, like he usually did. Then at five thirty and then every ten minutes after that. Voice messages in his voice mailbox. Text messages asking if he was all right. To get back to him. The messages didn't stop until six and with each one, Kyo sounded more worried.

Five. Saisyu had…wasn't it at three or a little after?

At five, he was…he wasn't conscious. Had passed out, was evidently in good hands afterwards. Had been fighting for his life…had died or almost did, according to the doctor. Had nearly succumbed to his injuries.

Kyo had called. Had texted. And he…

Saisyu's words were a brutal blow, the sharp recall stirring terror deep within. If he called, if he texted back…

_If you approach him, if you even contact him, I'll bring the rest of the clan – without him – and give you such a death that there won't even be ashes left._

He wasn't afraid of death itself. Knew he was going to die young. It was how, though, that made the difference. Dying from the curse was expected, inevitable. He'd made his peace with it a while back. Didn't know how it'd come but it wasn't like he could stop it. But this…what Saisyu threatened, would carry out if he offended?

To be obliterated like that…

He shuddered. Found himself gripping his phone tight, knuckles white.

The bandages starting from his wrist and going up…the scarring…Kyo called and he…he couldn't…

He was crying after all, silent tears falling and he allowed it, only because he hurt so much. Wept, with only the sounds of his wounded heart coming from the monitor to keep him company.


	4. Chapter 4 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 4~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

To say he was pissed off was an understatement. Kyo roared and he rarely roared.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" His tone was unfilial to the extreme, his volume raised higher than it should have been, and by all means, he shouldn't be towering over his father but the latest regulations were going too far, dammit! "What do you mean I can't see my friends?"

"Your friends can come over to see you. You cannot –"

"Then what's that bullshit about the clan chaperone? Was that all false?"

"If you need to go out for certain functions, then that holds." His father weathered his yelling as though it was nothing. He rarely saw this side of Saisyu – usually, the other preferred sleeping late and doing nothing much at all (leaving most of it to his mom) – but seeing him like this brought it home to him that Saisyu was the head patriarch. While he deigned to use his authority most times, apparently, his indiscretions with Yagami now caused this side of his father to show.

It was highly upsetting and irritating and downright enraging.

Kyo let his temper fly and didn't care that it was disgraceful for him to act this way.

He was an adult. Was twenty three. His own affairs were his business, not his father's. Finding out he pried into it – he still didn't know how or what gave it away – and going from shock to horror and then full-blown fury seemed like reasonable reactions. Because the _hell_? What did he care?

And now he couldn't see his friends? Was the old man really that worried about…?

"So if Benimaru and Goro want to see me –"

"They can come over. I've thought this through, Kyo. They know the other contestants. That includes that boy, correct?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"I can't trust that you wouldn't use that as an excuse to find him. I do not control your friends."

"But you can control them if they come here?"

"Exactly. Now will you sit down and behave? This is most unlike you, Kyo."

Unlike him only because the old man treaded where he shouldn't have. Ignoring his father's directive, Kyo remained standing, fists clenched tight. Clansmen stood outside his father's study – reinforcements in case this got ugly – and he knew they remembered every word. Probably had someone writing it down. Blackmail material? Or just to throw his words back in his face should they need to as some form of control?

"And Yuki? What about her?"

"You still think about her? Consider her? I would've thought –"

"Do _not_ bring that up. I'm asking you what would happen if I wanted to –"

"Considering she'll be your future wife, considerations will be different. We do not want to make her think twice about marrying into the clan, correct?"

"You trust her." That wasn't a question. He needed to know where his father stood on this.

"Why shouldn't I? She, out of all your friends and acquaintances, would be least likely to encourage your behavior in _that_ regard. She does not know, son. Consider that a kindness from me."

"Kindness," he snarled, hearing an echo of Yagami's tone from long ago in his voice. "And me? What about me? Is _this_ kindness?"

"Once you realize the full import of your actions and seek to make amends, we can discuss about relaxing these rules. Until then, son, you will continue to be watched. The clan relies on you – on what you bring to its future – but we cannot do that if you are still immature."

In other words, what he and Yuki would bring to its future. A child. The next heir.

Impossible if he and Yagami were still entangled, their lives as one.

"Anything else?" he snapped. He didn't like surprises and Saisyu springing this one floored him, made him see red. It was the reason why he stormed into the old man's study in the first place, demanding answers. He only found out today – a week into what boiled down to clan-imposed house arrest – that further limitations had been made to his freedoms.

He had every right to be angry. To be yelling, to demand to be heard.

"Not at this time. Don't test me, son. It'd go easier for you."

"Yeah. I'm sure it will."

Then, he left, one of the clansmen trailing him, close as a shadow. One of the impositions in his life now. He entered his room and slammed the door shut, right in the clansman's face. It made him feel better but not by much.

* * *

Yagami hadn't gotten back to him at all. He sent out another barrage of follow-up texts and left another voice message. It'd been days since he last contacted him and it was as if the other man had disappeared entirely. He wasn't sure where he was, what had happened, and it wasn't as if he could just up and leave to find out. His clan's restrictions barred that path to him – not that he wasn't seeking a way around it. Some loophole.

His father trusted Yuki but she didn't know. If he told her…

Yuki had been there, had been waiting, when he came back years later after 1997. He'd changed by then, his experience with NESTS embittering him to a certain degree and she'd been there. Had been his comfort and support in the days that followed. If he were to tell her what happened between him and Yagami, how their hatred transformed into something else…

He didn't want to hurt her. She was too good for that – to get that from him.

He wondered about his mother. Shizuka was anything but her namesake – she certainly wasn't quiet – and he expected her to drop by and ask him what was going on. Because Shizuka Kusanagi didn't just sit around like some good housewife without knowing what was occurring within the household. With his imprisonment (that was how he chose to see it) and Saisyu being unreasonable, it wasn't as if she'd be unaware of the sudden tensions between father and son. If she wasn't here, yet…

His mother was likely gathering information. Had her own sources.

She would show up. Ask him what was going on. And when she did, he'd tell her and see what she thought. Kusanagi clan though she might be, his mother was more level-headed, calmer, able to see the bigger picture. Able to see past her prejudices. If anyone would hear him out – see where he was coming from regarding Yagami – it'd be her.

He just needed it to happen soon. Not being able to go anywhere was driving him crazy.

Later that night, when the household was asleep – all lights off (someone probably outside his door) – he set his phone to 'record' and condensed all his concerns and worries in it. It took a few tries, since he wanted to make sure it captured his face and finally on the fourth attempt, he got a decently clear video. This, he sent to Yagami. If the other man was still around, was still interested in him even – he couldn't explain the sudden absence – he hoped this would let him know. Let him know that he, Kyo Kusanagi, was still invested in their relationship.

He just needed a response, no matter how brief.

He was willing to wait. To keep trying until he heard back from Iori.

Until then, he was up to his own devices. His own ruses to slip this chain, this yoke around his neck. Because he wanted out. As soon as possible.

He left another text and this one to a familiar friend.

It wasn't much but it was a start.

_Beni, this is Kyo. Give me a call when you have time._


	5. Chapter 5 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 5~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

Kyo had left him more messages. Several texts, all asking where he was, was he all right, and to please get back to him if he was able. With each message he saw, with each message he read and re-read (knives to the soul), Iori despaired further and further. He had to put his phone aside and get ahold of himself, because Kyo's concern (so much of it) hurt and he couldn't let himself…he didn't want to cry again. He had other issues at hand to deal with – also as painful – and he didn't have enough energy to expend on both physical and emotional matters.

It was the video that nearly undid him – magnified the raw anguish he now carried.

He kept his phone far away after that. The hurt was too great.

Doctor Yamashita ordered more blood tests and X-rays done and monitored his condition as the days went by. His sternum would take about four months to heal – it wasn't a clean break; had bone fragments that were placed and realigned during surgery – and on the matter of his burns, the young doctor was more delicate in his phrasing. Certain areas were burned more badly, would certainly need skin grafts. Did he want them to start the process? Start getting the cells ready for cultivation in the labs so that within the next few months, they could start his treatment?

He had no choice, really. Some of the burns were bad. He saw them.

He gave them the go-ahead and then lay in bed that night, mind completely empty. It was the only way to keep sane. His whole world was breaking – every little part becoming undone – and there was no one there to comfort him, to be by his side.

He tried not to think about Kyo. Didn't think he succeeded.

Saisyu's warning followed him even into his dreams and sometimes he awoke, panicked, sure he was about to be incinerated just for existing.

More tests were done and more treatments were suggested. The burns affected his joints – backs of his knees, his shoulders where the sockets were, his wrists, his ankles – and the doctor recommended therapeutic rehab. He'd listened in disbelief, unable to comprehend that he'd have to go that far to regain a semblance of himself. For that was what it was – a mere semblance. He was never going back to what he was before – would never be a fighter in his prime again.

He was only twenty four and his best days were done. Over.

Saisyu took all that away from him, just like what had been done to his old man.

On top of that, his lungs were so affected by the circulating heat that even after he was taken off the tube, breathing was strained. Medication was given. Would be prescribed once the hospital deemed him healthy enough to leave. There would be several prescriptions written, which he would have to fill immediately. Enough painkillers to deaden the worst of it and one so that he could continue breathing without complications.

His body temperature never changed. The nurses cooled him down, gave him sponge baths and dampened his forehead but the vicious heat continued to cycle, continued to spike at the worst times. He'd been overwhelmed, had slipped into fevers which left him weaker than before. Rebounding was always harder and Doctor Yamashita had the nurses on a constant scheduled watch, just in case something went wrong.

He'd recovered but his heart had suffered and this, too, was detrimental to his final outcome. The nurses cared for him – some offering quiet encouragement – with the doctor checking his stats and improving his treatments. Days spilled over into weeks and by the time he underwent what felt like the millionth blood test, Iori wanted to leave.

He'd never liked hospitals. Never did, never would've gone to one if things weren't serious.

But the two hospitals and this one in particular saved his life. Continued doing so.

So he waited. Waited and remained, listening to the sounds of his phone going off, knowing the source of those calls, those texts. In moments of weakness, he reclaimed his phone, would open up the videos just to look upon Kyo's face. He knew he had changed – was no longer the same – but the other looked the same, if only more fretful, more concerned.

Kyo's old man had found out. Was Kyo doing okay?

He always wanted to ask but he never let his fingers wander onto the digital keyboard, to punch in the characters that would form that question.

Contact meant death and he wasn't ready to die. He'd only been fighting for the last few weeks not to.

So he'd let his fingers slide away from the keyboard, knowing that while he did so, he would remain alive. That Saisyu wouldn't come after him, because he hadn't run afoul of the warning. Knowing that doing so was denying himself the one person he could truly say he loved.

It hurt. It hurt him badly, admitting this to himself.

But there was nothing he could do.

Nothing at all.

* * *

When he finally left the hospital – close to three weeks gone – the sky was leaden and overcast, clouds rolling overhead heavy with rain. It was cooler and with his feverish state, he welcomed it. He was still burning inside, still off-balance and somewhat dizzy, so when the first raindrops fell, Iori took a carefully-drawn breath and craned his neck upward to look at the sky. After being indoors and bedridden for so long, the change of scenery and fresh air was pleasant. Soothing, even. He let the rain wash over him, let it run into his hair and down his face.

It felt good. Really good.

He was tired, though. Had never stopped feeling this way since the attack. It was part of his life now, inseparable. He also found his movement hampered, the burns affecting his mobility. Opening his wallet, counting the _yen_ inside – unused, untouched – he made a decision. This being a hospital, he could hail a taxi at the front entrance and let it take him somewhere safe. Somewhere to sleep, to stop thinking about things for just a few hours.

Usually, home was shelter. Was safety.

But after Saisyu's direct assault upon his life in his own apartment, he no longer felt safe there anymore. Didn't want to go back and see where he'd fallen, where his life began going wrong. So when the taxi came, he gingerly climbed in – aware his sternum was still healing (he'd set off every metal detector now) – and asked for the nearest standard hotel. The driver set his cost per mileage counter ticking and he was off, away from the place that did, for some time, become shelter and home.

He put his wallet down next to him. His keys were in his pocket, as was his phone.

He'd have to return home eventually. He couldn't avoid it – just didn't want to do it right now. He still struggled to breathe normally – would have to get that particular prescription filled out soon – and undergoing a possible panic attack in his own apartment would only make that worse. Could possibly land him back in the hospital again.

Until he had to go back to continue his burn treatments, Iori didn't want to see the inside of a hospital again. No matter how well he was treated or how skilled Doctor Yamashita was at his job. It'd removed him from the outside world and it reminded him of how terrible things were for him to even call for emergency services in the first place. Like as not, he'd always carry reminders of this time on his skin, within himself, and deep in the recesses of his mind.

His phone was a weight heavy in his pocket.

He didn't reach for it.

The taxi stopped at a decent-looking hotel. He paid the man and left, walked carefully inside and asked if they had a room available. They did – several, in fact – so he chose the most comfortable one and made his arrangements. Since he didn't have luggage, he took himself upstairs. This time, he took the elevator, since climbing stairs would aggravate his breathing and he still felt unwell. It was something he had to adapt to, to figure out how to shape his life around.

Changes and none that he'd ever asked for.

He needed a shave and a haircut as well. He also wanted decent food again, but none of those were as promising as the bed and the rest that followed. His jacket and shirt were slung over the nearest chair and he soon drifted off, the sheets cool against his overheated skin.

His phone buzzed, the sound soft in the silken silence.

He slept. Thought of nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 6~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

Plans were being made and groundwork being set. First, his mom stopped by his room, dismissed his door guard, knocked, and asked if she could come in. He'd been expecting this for several days since he was barred from meeting his friends outside, so when Shizuka Kusanagi inquired as to his privacy, Kyo let her in. Closed the door behind her, sat on his bed, and then the conversation began in earnest. His mom wore a beautiful cotton kimono dyed the faintest shade of lavender.

Iori liked purple, which wasn't surprising and had a number of lavender shirts. Kyo thought they looked hideous, but the other man just ignored him and wore them anyway. When they were rivals, he swore the other did it on purpose to deliberately irritate him. After things between them changed, he teased Iori mercilessly about the shirts and also made a point to relegate them to the floor first. He remembered Yagami being amused about that before tackling him.

It was sobering knowing his father knew. He wondered where Yagami was.

His mom had swung his attention back to her, away from those memories and asked him without pretense, "Kyo, what's going on?"

It wasn't as if she didn't know. But she wanted to hear it from him.

So, he responded. "Did you ask Dad? Did he say?"

"Only that you and the last heir of the Yagami clan were up to no good. I guessed somewhat at the context, since he wouldn't say. Said it was disgraceful. I drew my own conclusions. Asked some of the other clan members and your uncle. Some only knew the barest details. Your uncle knows the whole of it and agrees with your father. Kyo, why?"

Here it was.

He grasped that simple question and dove down upon it, like a hawk to prey. "Because things are different now, Mom. It's not the same anymore. Not like before."

"Enough to make you fall for that man?"

Shizuka Kusanagi was never quiet and she never shied away from getting to the root of the matter. Looking at his mom's expression, Kyo saw she simply wanted the truth. An open sincerity, no judgment. Just wanted to hear it straight from him without embellishment, without fear, without lies.

"Things changed…somehow. Not sure when. Or how. But they did."

"And he felt the same?"

"Started with him, actually. I just got into his face about it. That's all."

"How long, Kyo?"

"Six months. A bit before that before he finally understood why he refused to kill me."

"And Yuki doesn't know, does she?" Simply asked, without accusation or harshness.

"No, she doesn't. It's not something I'd –"

"Not something you'd tell the girlfriend you knew since high school." Shizuka ran both palms over the surface of her kimono near her lap. "Do you still care for her, Kyo?"

"Yes."

"But you also care for that young man, don't you?"

"Yeah. In my own way."

"Kyo, you either love someone or you don't. I think you might love both but…it's not exactly fair to Yuki or to Iori Yagami, is it? To be divided like that."

"It wasn't like I –"

"I know, Kyo. Sometimes, it takes you by surprise. But you're stuck here, Kyo. You may need to choose."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"But you also don't want to leave Yagami behind, right?" His mother's expression softened. "Does that young man mean that much to you?"

"He's only followed me around since I was fifteen."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Kyo sighed, brought his legs up and tucked them under him. "He does. We…understand each other. Rivals and all, before." He made an idle wave of his hand. "Kinda made it easier when it happened."

"Your history together."

"Yeah. We laugh about it now. Well, I do at least. Yagami has a...interesting sense of humor."

"He would. His life's been harder than yours." At that, he stared at his mother, surprised. "He is of the Yagami clan, Kyo. No mothers, fathers dead before the heir hits adulthood, a harsh upbringing, and out into the world alone. You've had it lucky compared to him. Don't think I'm unaware of that."

"You don't sound like you disapprove."

"You said it just happened?"

"At least that's what it felt like. I'm not even sure Yagami knows what happened."

"Well." His mother shook her head but a small smile graced her face. "This is certainly an interesting way to unite our clans."

"If only Dad could see it that way."

"He's for the clan. Our clan. You were never meant to take up with the rival clan's heir, after all. Probably gave him a shock." Shizuka stood, a fluid upward motion full of grace and poise. In her lavender kimono, it reminded Kyo of lilies swaying in the wind. "I'll have a talk with him. It may not convince him but he might reconsider some of his methods."

"He probably would," Kyo said, tone dry. "I think you're the only person he's scared of."

"Well…he has reasons to be."

Kyo laughed. It felt great doing so. "Thanks, Mom."

"Kyo…consider this carefully. You have two people at stake here. I wish it wasn't so complicated but…things happen, like you said. You may have to choose, so choose wisely."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"You know when I didn't come home after 1997?" He saw her nod. "Kagura-san, Yagami, and I went up against Orochi. Like our three clans in the past. Before we sealed Orochi off, Yagami's ancestor spoke to me. Told me to work with him, to save him from the mistake they made, and that the fault was entirely theirs. So I guess in this way, it's saving him from himself."

"Did you tell your father that?"

"Dad won't listen. Shut me down before I had the chance."

"I'll tweak his ear."

"Ha." Kyo chuckled. "I bet you will."

"You'll need to tell Yuki eventually, though. She needs to know, Kyo, if you want to be honest with her."

"I know." It was one of the things he dreaded. Seeing her plausible reaction…

"Take care of yourself, son. Keep your voice down, okay? Easier to sail through a storm by being calm than wrenching at the wheel. Ships sink that way, when you're in a panic. You're the heir, Kyo. There are ways to do this but not through force alone."

Kyo absorbed all she said, turning his mother's words this way and that. Shizuka Kusanagi was the brains behind their family and this was why. He offered her a small bow, only from the waist since he still sat on his bed, as acknowledgement of her wisdom. She opened his door, stepped through, closed it quietly and left.

It gave him time to think. To continue turning her words around, like a piece of glass held up to the light. One part played and another one to go. He had to make a choice, eventually. This much, he knew.

Just didn't know when it all became so complicated.

* * *

"Hey, Beni, Goro. Thanks for stopping by."

"Sounded important over the phone, man. So, what's up, Kyo?"

He sprung his second line of attack against his house imprisonment, phrasing it in such a way so that his friends didn't realize the cause behind it. "Since I've been stuck at home for a bit, has anyone bothered you about me?"

Benimaru frowned, brows creased in thought. "The only one who would've is Yagami."

"Has he? Bothered you, I mean. Gone around, asking?"

"Now that you mention it…that is odd. Hey, Daimon…you seen him prowling around lately?"

The bigger man shook his head.

"Haven't seen him in…I think about three weeks. Getting closer to four now. Normally, he'd be asking about you. About fighting you. Maybe he got sick or something. Why'd you want to know?"

Kyo shrugged. It was important to play it casual here. "Just wanted to make sure he wasn't giving you a hard time. You know how he can be."

"Yeah, we know. So, since we're here, what do you want to do? Besides talk?"

"What else? Let's spar. Haven't fought in a while."

"Okay, man. Sounds cool. Sounds good, big guy?" Kyo grinned as Benimaru addressed Goro, who nodded in assent. He moved off his bed and opened the door. Ignored the clansman standing in the hallway – the one his mother had dismissed when she came in to speak to him. Took them to the training hall behind the house. Made a mental note to just fight and relax for now. But he needed to get out and find Yagami, because what Benimaru and Goro confirmed didn't bode well. Yagami didn't just vanish like that.

Something had happened. And he intended to find out what.

His mother had said to approach this by other means than force.

Perhaps he could ask Benimaru and Goro to do a small favor for him. To bring him word if Yagami did happen to show up and inquire about him. Because then, at least he'd know the other man was still around. Was still alive.

He might be held here but he had his own networks.

He didn't even need to leave the house to get it started.

Stay calm and sail through the storm. He was trying. At least this was a beginning. A beginning to the end he intended to get to.


	7. Chapter 7 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 7~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

He stayed two more nights at the hotel, charging it to his credit card and used some of the money in his wallet for immediate needs once he got enough sleep. A shave, his hair cut and trimmed, and some food and drink so that his stomach no longer complained. Even with those, he had to be careful, since his healing sternum required controlled breathing, so he chose quick consumables. Feeling strange and out of sorts – the world in frenzy around him – he took the food back to his hotel room and ate there. He was never comfortable around a lot of people and after his ordeal, even less so.

He knew what he looked like – had lost weight – and his eyes felt heavy with everything being too bright, too close. So after his meals, he always slept some more. He wasn't used to this kind of indolence but his body needed it. Every time he woke up, his sheets were drenched with sweat. He spent some more money and got bottles of water. Doctor Yamashita had mentioned dehydration back when he was still a patient on hospital grounds. The last thing he wanted was to faint or become parched from lack of fluids.

So he drank his water – carefully, taking his time – and knew he had to go home. The hotel had served its purpose and was comfortable but he couldn't stay away forever. He had to return, to confront what had happened to him there several weeks ago and what it meant for him now.

A part of him shied away, afraid as to his future.

Iori ditched the water bottle in the wastebasket. There was a four o' clock train heading out in a couple hours. He had several prescriptions to fill, to carry back with him. Perhaps he'd do that after checking out. There was nothing else to preoccupy his time, except for the thoughts in his head.

He clamped down on those hard, unwilling to dwell upon them.

Not now. Never, if he had a choice but since when was he given what he desired?

Even that had been taken away.

He got up from the bed, stashed his keys, wallet, and phone in his pockets and left before that particular line of thought drove him to tears. Or any emotion for that matter. He didn't have time for that – for sentiment, for feelings of any kind.

He had to head home. That was all.

* * *

He fell asleep on the train, cradled by its smooth motion and quietness. When he awoke just in time to make his exit, he felt ill again. The heat surged through his veins, sweat beaded and dripped off his face, and his movements were tremulous. He barely made it past the station's turnstile before he had to move off to the side and sink down to the floor, arms and legs bunched up. His shirt plastered to the damp bandages wrapped around his burned torso and everything was aflame for several minutes, on and off, on and off.

Footsteps approached and a hand was on his shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. Are you all right?" One of the police, middle-aged with dark hair and the start of wrinkles at brow and eyes. "Do you need us to call an ambulance?"

He'd only left the hospital a few days ago. He didn't want to go back.

"I'll be fine," he mumbled, hearing the rasp in his voice. "Just give me…"

"Where do you live, sir? What is your name?"

He told the officer. The man looked at him – Iori wondered what he thought, seeing him like this if he was recognizable – and mentioned about taking a taxi to his place of residence. That the officer would take him there himself, if permission was granted from his superiors. Iori knew that his squad patrolled the station and that this was outside his given range of authority. There was pity in the other's voice and expression; Iori was too worn to care, even if he would've bristled at any other time.

He just wanted to get home and he couldn't even do that without help.

Bitter laughter arose in his throat and he held it back, aware of what would follow.

The officer left, foot traffic flowed past him, and he huddled tighter into himself, a fresh wave of heat leaving him dizzy. He tried to breathe in rhythm, to lull his body into a calmer state but the merciless burning within continued to spike. His strength was running on its last reserves and he just wanted to get home. Could he even do that?

Eventually, the officer returned, took one look at him, and helped him to his feet. He reeled, almost fell over, and if it wasn't for the man at his side, would have collided face-first into the hard tile floor. The world phased in and out around him, voices blurring and becoming only sound without meaning, and Iori panicked, aware he was about to lose consciousness.

He said something – wasn't sure what – and the world melted into nothing.

* * *

"Are you all right, Yagami-san? You fainted for a moment there."

He sat up, his entire body aching and sore – was he suffering another bout of fever? – and realized he was in a side room within the subway station. The officer was here – must've relocated him to avoid the curious stares and unnecessary attention his collapse would've drawn. Heat filled his face and he went red from shame. To be reduced to this…

"I'll still hail the taxi for you. Take you home."

He almost didn't comprehend the words. Caught the gist at the last second and nodded.

He dared not speak.

Not now. Not now.

* * *

The officer was true to his word. A taxi was hailed, he was gently guided inside (last reserves of strength running dry), and the officer got in the back seat with him and gave his address to the driver. The driver took off; he stared out the window, listless and the officer also fell silent. Iori watched the familiar surroundings go by, closed his eyes and tried not to think how he got here, to this point.

He felt pathetic. He _was_ pathetic.

His old man was never able to fight again. What about living? Was he able to…do anything? Or was he treated like an invalid until the end of his days when the blood curse took him away? Was it even the blood curse that killed him?

He pushed away from that thought in fearful haste.

No. He wouldn't go there or contemplate that, because…

Part of his mind cried out for Kyo and he shut that down, too. He couldn't…

When he opened his eyes again – feeling like he'd lived two lifetimes – they were close to his apartment complex. The heat had gone down but the aftereffects remained. He reached for the keys in his pocket, felt his hand trembling, and waited. Waited until they arrived and the officer paid the driver, helped him out, and took him to his floor and before his door.

"Do you need any further assistance, Yagami-san?"

He shook his head, still not trusting himself to speak.

"If you do, just give us a call."

He didn't say anything. The officer clapped a hand on his shoulder, as if to reassure him – Iori had no idea what expression he wore – and then left, calling for his partner to come get him. He heard the officer go down the stairs and only then did he put the key into the lock and turn.

The tumbler fell. The lock clicked.

He was home but he felt like a stranger now.

Stranger to everything he once knew. Stranger to all that was past, that was now dead.

Iori took a breath – not too deep, not too shallow – and pushed the door open. Stepped past the threshold – the apartment was dark – closed the door behind him (the click bringing back awful memories) and removed his shoes. Turned the lights on, saw where Saisyu rendered him helpless, turning him into _this_ – what he was now.

He didn't make it past the entranceway. Didn't even make three steps.

He wanted Kyo. He wanted someone here.

Kyo wasn't here. Would never be again. That hurt. Immensely.

And there was nothing he could do about it but laugh in bitter anguish. When the laughter turned into tears, he wasn't even aware of the change. There was just pain and unending. It would never stop. Not for him.

He wasn't that lucky.


	8. Chapter 8 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 8~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

Two days after speaking to his mother, Kyo found himself summoned to his father's study. The clansman by his door followed him – like a goddamn prisoner with a warden – until he was safely (under watch) escorted to the appropriate premises. There, he was greeted by other members of the clan, for whom he only held disdain. He saw their expressions were mutual; they probably knew. So be it – he wasn't going to be apologetic about it.

It was with this mindset that he opened the door to his father's study.

Sat down, facing the older man across from him.

Saisyu was dressed in his usual traditional garb, as though reemphasizing his role in the Kusanagi clan. It wasn't as if Kyo needed reminders – every damn day in this house only served to throw that in his face. He wasn't the filial son but he could hear what his old man had to say.

"What's this about?"

His father removed his hands from within his wide kimono sleeves and let them fall upon his knees. "Your mother's been at me. So after some reconsideration, I'm willing to concede on certain matters regarding your current situation."

"Such as?"

"If you wish to meet with your friends outside, you may. However, you must be accompanied by two clansmen. One of them will be your uncle."

Kyo scowled. "Must he?"

"Yes. That's my condition, Kyo. Otherwise, you stay here."

"Fine. Is that all?"

"I've also noticed your phone activity has been extraordinarily busy to one specific number. Son, I'd advise you to stop."

"Is that how you found out? By snooping through my –"

"It's not a number I recognized. So I did some investigating. If you continue this, Kyo, I'll be forced to reevaluate your –"

"My what? Just because I –"

"Because of what you did, the clan's questioning their decision to choose you as heir in the first place!" Saisyu snapped. "You think it can't be taken away? Remember your cousin, son."

"That was Souji's choice. It doesn't affect me."

"Because he stepped away from it, it fell to you. Don't think it can't go to another."

Kyo glared at his father, open enmity plain. "That's supposed to frighten me?"

"It comes with its privileges. Such as this – why your penalty's not more severe."

"And what –"

"We used to execute traitors, son. Back when the clan was young. You've been spared that, so keep your silence."

_That _chilled Kyo. He'd never seen himself as a traitor – certainly not to the clan – and being with Yagami as a lover never crossed his mind as such. Was he blacklisted as a traitor now? If he was…

"Would you have allowed that, Dad?"

His father met his gaze and Kyo shuddered. "The clan's regulations state as much. If you weren't the heir, I'd be the one to carry out your sentence."

Kyo didn't have any appropriate response to that. His face must've said as much, because Saisyu looked at him and sighed.

"Anything else, son?"

His silence spoke for him.

"Let your mother know I spoke to you."

With that, he was dismissed.

* * *

"Beni, how is it out there?"

"Nothing much going on. Kinda same-old, same-old. No sign of Yagami, either."

Every time Benimaru said that, Kyo felt coldness in the pit of his stomach. Iori was always the first one to come seeking him – that hadn't changed – and it'd been how many days (how many weeks) since anyone had seen him? Osaka was his home. The other man wouldn't just leave. Not without a reason and not without letting him know.

"He hasn't approached you?"

"Not even that, Kyo. He's just not here. Anywhere."

"Beni, I know you have connections. Can you do me a favor here?"

A pause on the other end of the line. "What about?"

Kyo took a deep breath. Decided to throw his trust at his friend. "This is gonna sound odd, Beni, but just listen to me."

"Okaaay…what's going on, Kyo?"

"Yagami and I…we're not exactly enemies anymore."

"No shit. You could've fooled me."

"We're kinda…uh…familiar with each other."

"You've been rivals for how long? You would be."

"Not like that, Beni." He paused and then took the plunge before he lost his nerve. "Not like that."

He hadn't said much – left most of it as implication – but the sudden silence over the other end of the line meant Benimaru got it. After several long seconds, the other's voice spoke over the phone in disbelief. "Shit…you mean you and Yagami…"

"Yeah."

"Does Yuki know?"

"Not yet." It was a problem he needed to deal with and he wasn't sure how to go about addressing it. "Don't tell her, Beni. Or Goro. Or anyone else."

"You and Yagami…how the hell did that –"

"I don't know." He looked out the window of his room, which overlooked the center courtyard of the estate premises. "But it did. And now he's disappeared and I don't know what's happened to him."

Another fall of silence and this time it extended for far longer than comfortable. When his friend spoke again, his voice was tense. "So you want me to use my connections and find where he is? Relay the information to you? Is that it, Kyo?"

"Or find him and speak to him. Let him know I'm trying to reach him."

"That's if he's alive. Or even here."

"Don't say that." Just the mere thought twisted like an embedded dagger in his heart. "Beni, will you do this for me? Can I trust you with this?"

"If I do find him, what do you want me to say?"

"That I want to talk to him. Nothing complicated. Just let him know."

An indrawn breath on the other end. "If that's all, I can do that."

"Thanks, Beni."

"You know…you're taking a big risk here, Kyo. If this comes to light –"

"My dad already knows."

"Well shit."

"Yeah. Beni..." Kyo stepped away from the window and paced back and forth across the wooden floorboards. "Can you tell him something else?"

"Since I'm already in this, what else do you need?"

"Tell Yagami I'm gonna find him. To wait for me. Whatever's going on, that I'll be there."

"Damn, this is serious for you, isn't it?"

"He's only been my rival for how long before this? Beni, you said so yourself."

"It's just so…weird."

"I know." Kyo smiled but it wasn't from happiness. "I owe you one, Beni. Thanks a lot, man."

"You're my friend, Kyo. As long as we're not breaking the law, we're good."

"Yeah. Talk to you later, 'k?"

"Yeah. I'll keep in touch."

"Thanks."


	9. Chapter 9 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 9~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Saisyu Kusanagi belong to SNK_

* * *

If his father was still alive, he'd kill him right here and now – not because of the sentiment of a mercy kill but because he'd been disgraced and made the clan lose face. It was with this painful and harsh knowledge that Iori began the slow and agonizing crawl back towards normalcy, or whatever of it he could preserve.

He'd spent the last several days in bed, either sleeping or just lying there, feeling completely drained and unable to get up. Time passed with the shifting of light outside his window and in his sweat-soaked sheets, he cocooned himself away from the reality that faced him. His phone continued ringing but he just didn't have the energy to check. If it was Kyo, then…

He didn't want to think about it.

After that brutal realization dawned on him, he finally mustered the little strength he had to throw the sheets aside and sit up. His hair was plastered greasily against the side of his face, his eyes still felt too heavy, and it was difficult to breathe. Grabbing the medication on the bed-stand next to him, he gave himself a dose of the drug and waited for it to take effect. Sweat continued rolling down the nape of his neck into the sodden bandages and his body itched.

He needed to change them, or else the burns could get infected.

His phone rang again and suddenly, his world lurched.

In the time he'd been gone – a month now – he hadn't contacted his band members or even his agent or manager to let them know that he was unavailable. He hadn't called to make arrangements or to request that they find a substitute bassist. He'd done none of that – had forgotten – and now, the contact showing on the screen was the band manager. The one who called the shots. The one who called everyone to account.

Including him.

Fumbling for the phone, taking the call, Iori heard his voice for the first time in several days. It was hoarse from disuse and didn't help with the slight trembling behind it. "This is Yagami."

"Yagami-san, I've been trying to contact you for the past few weeks. Where were you?"

"I was hospitalized. Had some issues."

"Issues? And you didn't think to call?" As polite as the other man's tone was, the words were cutting. "You didn't think to let anyone know?"

"I was trying not to die," he said, unable to keep the acrid bite from his voice. "Inconvenienced. I couldn't just –"

"It's been a month, Yagami-san. Certainly you could've made time."

"I just got out of the hospital. I couldn't –"

"Do you know how inconvenient you made it for us? How much hassle you gave us because you didn't think to call? Even text?"

"I wasn't able to." He couldn't lose this – not his reputation as reliable. If word spread that he couldn't be relied on, then no one would take him into their band. He'd lose everything he gained and the only other thing Saisyu hadn't taken away – his music. "Hear me out, Wakamatsu. I'll –"

"Will you be able to rejoin us, Yagami-san?"

He paused. "I…"

"That sounds like a 'No.' Any reason for that?"

"I'm still healing. Broke my sternum." He didn't mention the burns or how feverish and weak he constantly was. That would make him a liability and no one liked dealing with those. He'd just never seen himself as one until now.

Iori gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw.

"I see. How long will you be out?"

"Was told four months."

"We can't wait that long, Yagami-san." The voice over his phone had turned precise and cold. "You know we have a tour coming up. A tour that you signed up for when you agreed to the renewal of your contract."

"I know."

"I'm sorry to say this, Yagami-san but it was nice working with you. Maybe you can find other employ once you are done healing."

"Wakamatsu –"

"Our business is concluded. Whatever pay is still due you, you will receive shortly. Have a nice day, Yagami-san." Then nothing but empty air because Wakamatsu had hung up on him. Had sunk a knife into him and twisted it. He was now unreliable – had lost whatever status he'd worked so hard for. His reputation was shot. He was done. Over.

He sat there for a long moment in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what had just befallen him. What he just lost…what…

Iori screamed, then – a sound of pure rage and grief, incoherent and raw.

He flung the phone aside, heard it hit the floor. Covered his face with his hands and screamed until his voice no longer worked. Until it hurt to scream.

Only then did he stop.

The light outside blurred and his throat ached.

* * *

He stayed in his room until evening, watching as daylight slipped gently into twilight and then the full veil of darkness fell. At that point, he got off the bed and stumbled towards the living room. Because of his prior action, he had to take another dose of the medication, since his lungs burned afterwards. His temperature was spiking again – the fluctuations were random – and Iori crossed the room and made it to the guitar before his knees failed.

It'd been a full month since he last played the instrument and it was now dusty. He laid his hand on the strings, felt the hard impress against fingers losing their calluses, and sighed. Leaned his head forward, letting his hair fall in front of his face.

He pressed the fingers of one hand against the strings and used the other to play a basic chord. The music helped but not much. He'd lost his career…lost it because…

He played another chord and then another, letting the bite of the strings counter the hurt he felt in so many ways. He'd lost Kyo, his health, his mobility, his ability as a fighter, and now his career was gone. It took him years to build up but in just one month and one phone call later, it was as if it'd never been. Ruined. Utterly destroyed.

His hands faltered on the guitar, the strummed chord dying in mid-air.

Iori blinked.

His throat ached again. He clenched his teeth and denied it to himself this time.

Played another chord and then another. Again and again and again.

The music was his voice.

The music was his voice.

The music was his voice.

It was all that he had left.


	10. Chapter 10 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 10~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, Shizuka Kusanagi, and Yuki belong to SNK_

* * *

"Kyo," his mother said, the slight tilt of her head the only warning he got, "Yuki's here to see you." She was dressed in a pale blue kimono this time, embroidered with a subtle pattern that carried a faint sheen in the light. It'd only been three days since the blowout with his dad and while he had been considering what to do or say in case Yuki asked – or didn't, which was worse – he hadn't expected her to drop by any time soon. "She seems rather excited. Will you see her?"

Not seeing her would only make her suspicious. It was also cowardly for him to avoid her, since he still liked her and just because he also liked Iori didn't mean his feelings for her were any less. He'd been sitting at his desk, going through his cell phone – the lack of response still drove an icy feeling of unease into his gut – when his mother dropped by. With Yuki at his front door, there was no way he was going to sidestep her. He put his phone into his pocket, pushed his chair back, and stood. "Yeah. I'll see her."

"I'll let her know you'll be arriving soon."

With that, Shizuka Kusanagi left.

"Arriving soon" in the Kusanagi household pertaining to him and Yuki meant meeting in the usual spot, which was in a small room adjacent to the common family room. It also meant all conversation unless spoken in whispers could be heard from either side, since the walls weren't insulated. However, since he and Yuki never discussed anything private, there was no harm to it. Kyo cracked his neck, stretching the tight muscles and opened his door.

Ignored the clansman standing guard outside.

Ignored him as he was escorted to the room, which he knew very well, dammit.

What he did notice was how the other man peeled off before he could be seen by Yuki. Of course. His dad did mention not giving her the slightest hint something was off in their house. Potential marriage prospects and all. An asset to the clan, if one wanted to see her that way. Somehow, Kyo thought Yuki wouldn't take kindly to seeing herself like that – it harkened back to the traditional ways of a woman's role and his girlfriend was a bit too feisty to just submit to that. Hell, even he didn't dare to cross her in certain ways.

She reminded him of his mother in some aspects.

Not quiet. Not just an ornament for her man.

Something for him to think about.

"Kyo!" Yuki exclaimed as he entered the room, tread soft on the _tatami_ matting. He smiled as she crossed the space between them, step lithe and light. "How are you? I was wondering if we could go out and…well, you know!"

A date. He had gone on several with her, even while meeting with Iori in secret over the last six months before…

He shut that thought down before it could show on his face.

"What do you have in mind?"

She beamed, almost glowing. "Well, I was thinking we can go to a concert. There's one with this choir and orchestral group in a few weeks. And I'll ask my parents if you can come over to my place afterwards."

"Your folks will be home?"

"Of course, Kyo." She smiled, amused. "They trust you and all, but…"

"Yeah, I know." Even with him being chaste around her – something he couldn't claim with his time spent with Yagami (don't think that right now) – Yuki's parents still hovered about her, protective of their daughter's virtue. Young men and all that talk. He knew how that belief still held true and he couldn't blame them for that.

"So…you want to go?"

"Why not?" He refrained from shrugging, knowing how she'd perceive that. "Want me to buy the tickets? Just let me know the group, the place and time, and I'll take care of that."

Yuki's smile warmed him. There was a sparkle in her eyes. She wore a green dress (it was one of her favorites) which was knee-length for modesty but draped nicely on her. It went well with her brown hair and eyes. While she wasn't Shermie – that infamous late fighter who had boasted of her fashion designer skills and tastes – she was Yuki and she carried her own sense of flair. Her happiness spilling over, she reached out and hugged him.

"Thank you, Kyo!"

Grinning, he embraced her back. For a petite girl, she had a formidable squeeze.

"Just give me the details later. How are you?"

"The usual! You won't believe how crazy it is at work!"

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"All the company politics. All the gossip. I try to avoid it but…"

"Still gets you?"

"Hard not to hear it." Yuki sighed. "My co-worker's very chatty."

"Then tell her to shut up."

"Kyo!" Her expression of astonishment made him chuckle. "That's rude!"

"That's what I'd do. Unless you like hearing her go on and on…"

"That's still rude!"

This time, he shrugged. "Up to you."

"So, what about you? How have you been, Kyo?"

A landmine of a question. How was he? Only tangled up in worries and fraught with tension, quarreling with his father and launching his own secretive strike outside the confines of his home via Benimaru. All because his father discovered his relationship with Iori. Whether it was just through his phone records or something else, he had no idea how far his father's reach went. That concerned him. But he couldn't mention any of this to Yuki. Not now. Not with that future date already marked in his mental calendar.

"Same old, same old. Nothing much."

"Really? Can't be that boring for you."

Oh, if she only knew. "Afraid so. Even the great Kyo Kusanagi has boring days."

She gave him a playful punch. "Glad I'm here, then."

"You want to give me the details? I can order the tickets on my phone right now. Confirm it with you here."

"Sure!" Opening her purse – a sleek brown leather bag – Yuki handed him a piece of paper. It was a printout of the venue, date, time, and musical group. "Was waiting for them to come here since last year. Glad they made it this time."

Kyo read the venue and paused in the middle of searching for the ticket purchase website. The place was close to Yagami's home – only ten minutes away by foot – and he still had the spare keys in his room. But why was he thinking that right now? He was going on a date with Yuki. He couldn't let his private thoughts about Iori encroach upon his and Yuki's time together. That would be…unfair. To her.

His mother said he'd have to choose eventually.

He only hoped for some more time to consider.

Yuki hadn't caught his faltering. Quickly, before she realized it, he finished purchasing the tickets. "There. Done." He showed her his phone screen with the confirmation. "Just need to pick them up at the ticket office."

She embraced him again, smiling. He really did love her.

But then again…

Biting back his sigh, he also kept his thoughts off his face. "Yuki…"

"Yes? What is it, Kyo?"

"I've been gone so many times. Missing for several years. You remember before. Have you ever felt…slighted? That I wasn't always there for you?"

"I did miss you back then. Even now, if you're gone for several weeks participating in that tournament. I don't get it, but…I'll always be waiting for you."

A small knife twisting in the wound of his guilt. Kyo didn't say anything.

"Kyo? Is something wrong?"

"No. It's nothing."

She looked at him but didn't press further. Relieved, Kyo pocketed his phone. Sat down on the _tatami_ matting and watched as Yuki followed suit. She reached her hands out to him. He took them and held them, familiar with their slender smallness, the sleekness of her bones, and the softness of her skin. Doing this reminded him of other hands – larger, rougher but capable of surprising gentleness – and it only conflicted him more.

He did have to choose.

He just didn't know whom.

He couldn't have both, because it didn't work that way.

"Kyo? Are you sure everything's all right?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, Yuki."

She didn't need to know. Not right now.

They had a date three weeks from now. He wasn't going to be the one dashing her hopes, shattering her happiness, erasing that smile from her face. He wasn't going to say anything until he himself knew exactly what he wanted. He was still waiting to hear from Benimaru. There was nothing from that front yet.

Yuki reached up to touch his cheek. He leaned into it, closing his eyes.

Life was in some ways most unfair.


	11. Chapter 11 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 11~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"Thank you very much!"

Iori heard the convenience store clerk but deigned to respond. He usually didn't, so he wasn't about to break routine. The way his life was headed, he now relied on routine just to keep himself going. Some days were worse than others, like the day before. After he lost his job, he'd kept himself cooped up inside his apartment, unsure how to proceed. Yesterday had hit him like a truck health-wise and after staring at himself in the mirror – his cheekbones almost razor-sharp against his skin – he knew measures needed to be taken.

He continued losing weight, which alarmed him. Something had to be done.

So he left the apartment to buy food. Did so in the morning and came back. Ate and slept. Played his guitar. Slept some more. Forced himself to eat even though he didn't feel hungry. He was going to do the same today and over time make it part of his daily life. Along with this was his constant reliance on the prescribed painkillers and other medication. Breathing was still a chore and pain had become his worst enemy even at night while he was asleep. He'd woken up before, hunched over in agony.

It wasn't the way he ever saw himself living, yet what could he do but survive?

Even now, he had his breathing medication in his pocket.

He still felt pathetic and he was weak. He couldn't deny either of those, as much as he wanted to. But complaining would get him nowhere and Iori knew he was alone. That no one else would hold him up, would carry him down this lonely road. That if he didn't haul himself up and move, he'd just stagnate and die.

Saisyu Kusanagi might've crippled him, rendered him into a shadow of his former self but Iori refused to give him the satisfaction of withering away because he gave up. Despite everything he'd been through to this point, he still belonged to the Yagami clan and they never just quit. Also, Kyo was someone he respected and loved and Kyo would never expect him to just lie down and die. Doing so would be shameful and he didn't want to disappoint Kyo. Ever.

But life had turned from living into survival now and Iori couldn't say that it wasn't difficult. He'd thought his life hard before – he'd no idea, did he?

Walking back from the convenience store, being fully aware of his condition, he was determined to get home before the first heat spike of the day. When that hit, he was worthless for the next few hours. He'd never forgotten that embarrassing day in the subway station and he'd do anything to avoid a repeat of it. If he passed out at home, no one saw it. No one pitied him. He still had a pile of mail to sort and take care of – bills to pay and junk to toss – but that required energy, which was in short supply these days.

Iori breathed; his lungs burned.

Some things once damaged could never be mended.

Aside from the physical aftermath of his traumatic ordeal, Iori found it almost impossible to return to those texts and videos Kyo sent him. They reminded him of his loss – of what had been – and even certain areas in his apartment carried memories too strong and painful now to reminisce. There were even pieces of music he could no longer listen to, because Kyo had been there to experience it with him. Kyo's presence from those months before continued to linger and haunt those spaces; perhaps, he should consider moving out.

So much to think about. Kyo was no longer here – would not be coming back. Saisyu had guaranteed that and it was the second month now. Whatever Kyo's old man was doing, it was apparently working. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but move on.

Move on without Kyo. Unthinkable. It staggered him to even give it serious consideration. His whole life revolved around the other man. He'd never lived a day without him either in his thoughts or him seeking the other out. They had been rivals – had known each other for years and being lovers just made them closer. For him to even think about cutting that bond…

Well, it'd been cut for him, hadn't it?

The only thing left was for him to step away.

Step away and what?

Iori shivered, glancing at the sun wheeling overhead. The day was mild, the sky was high and blue wisped with clouds, and aside from his own body temperature, it was probably comfortable. There was even a light breeze cooling the sweat on his face. He stopped walking and found shelter under a store awning, staying in the shade.

A life without Kyo? Death would be better.

Had Saisyu known that by keeping him alive? By not killing him that afternoon?

Iori trembled and tilted his head back, pressing it against the cool concrete wall. It was torture, living and knowing and realizing that all he had to do was reach out. Reach out and take that chance, hoping that Saisyu wouldn't discover it. But it was a slender chance and if the Kusanagi head patriarch found out…

Better to die that afternoon than face the inferno promised if he transgressed.

He'd survived his injuries. Lived in pain, yes, but survived. He wasn't about to throw it away because of one phone call or text. He didn't know how Saisyu Kusanagi found out and he couldn't afford to take chances.

Kyo sent the occasional message. Iori didn't answer any of them.

He hoped the other man understood through his silence. It wasn't that he didn't care. He just…couldn't. Not if he wanted to continue staying here, being here, being alive. If he could even catch glimpses of him in the city, that would be fine.

But that meant following the law imposed by Saisyu and…

He let out a dry hoarse laugh. Here he was, the last heir of the Yagami clan and he was following to the letter the strictures given to him by the Kusanagi clan's head patriarch. It was a dark sad irony and his father would've killed him for even kowtowing to the other. Would've killed him, blood wet and red on his fingers and considered it a deed well done.

Iori closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Usually, he needed a smoke right about now but by the time his hospital stay was complete, he'd undergone a thorough nicotine withdrawal. Smoking in his current condition would kill him – would damage his already scarred lungs – and he'd enough problems without incurring further risks.

Opening his eyes, he glanced down the street. It was time he headed home.

Already, he felt his temperature rising, which was a precursor to the heat spike.

Pushing himself off the wall, he dragged his feet along. It already felt like a long day and it'd barely started. To make things worse, he wasn't hungry. Just feverish and going through the motions to keep himself anchored to today.

This was what passed for normalcy, for routine.

Would death have been better?

He decided not to answer that. Better not to have thought of it at all.

* * *

"_Hey, Yagami…if you're home, it's Nikaido."_

Iori turned over on the couch, exhausted. There was a voice coming through his intercom – familiar and somewhat irritating – and he just wanted whoever it was to go away. He'd barely made it back before the heat shot through his system. He hadn't even eaten yet – just dropped right here and slept for several hours. If the son-of-a-bitch outside would leave, he might be able to grab a quick bite before dozing off again.

_"Yagami…look, I know we're not on the best of terms. I'm here because of Kyo. If you're in there, let me in. I need to talk to you."_

Did he just hear…Kyo's name? Who was that again outside his door?

_"I'll leave my card in your box. You can give me a call."_

He was sluggish. Moving slow – too slow, too awkward on his feet – towards the door. Sidestepping the place where Saisyu dropped him, Iori lurched past the entranceway and fumbled for the chain and lock. Unlocked the door and threw it open, just in time to catch sight of blond hair and the telltale midriff-baring shirt. He made a sound, which should've been Nikaido's surname but his voice rasped without coherency.

It was enough, though. The other man stopped and turned to look at him.

Looked at him hard – astonishment clear on his face – as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Iori knew he looked different but Nikaido's expression was a gut-punch. Was he unrecognizable now?

_"Yagami?"_

"You want to talk. I'm tired. Get inside."

Astonishment changed to annoyance on the blond man's face; Iori couldn't care less. He'd hear him out and then ask him to leave. He needed food – had to gain some weight back – and then crash on his bed, which was actually comfortable. Benimaru Nikaido being here ruined his routine and…wait…

"How the hell do you know where I live?"

"My family has connections, Yagami. I was asked to find your whereabouts."

Iori narrowed his eyes. "By whom?"

"By Kyo. Don't know what he sees in you, but I'm doing a favor for him."

"He…he asked you?"

"He's been trying to reach you, Yagami. Going crazy not hearing from you. Wants to know if you're even here, alive or dead. Guess I can tell him you're still breathing."

Iori didn't respond. Silence fell.

"He's been contacting you, hasn't he?"

"He has." Iori looked past the other man, fixing his gaze on the sunlit expanse outside. "Get in."

Once Nikaido crossed the threshold and removed his shoes, Iori closed the door, locked it and stumbled his way back to the couch. It was slick with sweat; he sat, dipping his head down briefly to catch his breath. Nikaido continued standing, having not been offered a seat but that was fine. Iori felt his chest ache along with the rest of his joints and hoped he could last until after this discussion. He needed his painkillers soon. Inflammation was a major issue for him now and with his burns still healing – skin grafts required for the worst – pain was always around the corner.

He wiped the side of his face. His palm and fingers were slick and wet.

"You look like shit, Yagami."

"That's very insightful, Nikaido. What exactly are you here for?"

The blond man huffed, crossed his arms, and shifted his footing. "Why haven't you gotten back to Kyo? He's been –"

"Is he okay?"

"His dad found out. About you two, I mean."

"Is he okay, Nikaido?" His voice had lowered, tone soft. "He's all right, isn't he?"

"He's fine. Just worried. Wanted to tell you a few things."

"Such as?"

"That he'll come and find you. To wait for him. He wants to talk to you, Yagami."

Iori took a shallow breath and felt his chest constrict. "I…I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I…" He closed his hands into fists, sharp nails biting deep into his palms. Tiny pinpricks of pain and a different sort of wetness staining them from within. "I can't."

Across from him, Benimaru sighed. "You care for him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you –"

"You don't understand, Nikaido. He doesn't need to know. It's best if he…" He wanted to cry. Talking about Kyo, knowing that Kyo was still trying to get to him was… "He's better off forgetting about me. His father…he's risking himself..."

"He's aware of that. That's why he sent me. You want me to tell him you said that?"

Iori startled, eyes widening. "_No!_ Don't! That'll…" If he even contacted Kyo – Saisyu never specified how or by what method – and he was found out, then he'd die. Cease to exist and Kyo wouldn't even know. "I didn't say anything."

Nikaido studied him, his scrutiny making him uncomfortable. "Did someone threaten you?"

"No."

"Then why are you –"

"It's nothing." He wanted the other man to stop asking questions. The less he knew, the better. "It's...it doesn't concern you, Nikaido."

"Anything to say to Kyo?"

He shook his head. Of course he did, but Kyo's old man would kill him.

"Can I at least tell Kyo what I saw? About you, I mean?"

Iori opened his mouth and then closed it. Nodded.

Again, Benimaru sighed. "You seem different."

"No shit. What made that obvious?"

"Guess I'll see myself out. I'll let Kyo know." Benimaru Nikaido stepped towards the entranceway and put his shoes back on. Before he opened the door, he hesitated – Iori saw him pause in mid-action – and turning, looked at him. "Yagami, if he calls, just let him know –"

"I can't."

The blond man turned back. "I see. I'll let him know I spoke to you."

The door opening and closing. Silence returning and with it, the weight of everything he tried to forget. Kyo sent Nikaido to find him, to see how he was doing. To talk to him, to… Kyo wanted to find him, asked him to wait for him, that… Iori opened his hands, staring down at his blood-smeared palms. Four deep crescent moons in each, blood still flowing. His chest hurt. His eyes burned. Everything was suddenly too hot and he was tired.

He lay back down on the couch. Closed his eyes.

Kyo was looking for him. Knew something was wrong. Would come to find him.

Should he dare to hope or should he convince himself it'll all be for nothing?

Iori turned onto his side, hair spilling over onto the cushion he used as a pillow. His hands stung but that was a minor inconvenience, easily dealt with. _Kyo…_The other's name bright in a world gone dark. He clung to it and hoped.

Within minutes, he was asleep.


	12. Chapter 12 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 12~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

His phone buzzed next to his head. Reaching out from under his blanket, Kyo swiped and grabbed a hold of it, blinking the sleep from his eyes. When he saw the name on the screen, he immediately accepted the call. "Shit, it's four in the morning, Beni. You couldn't have called tomorrow?"

"Better now than during the daytime, since you're sending me sneaking." A small pause from the other end of the line. "I found him."

"What?" Now he was awake. Kyo sat up, the blanket slipping off and folding around his waist. "Where is he?"

"At his home. Kyo, he's in a bad way, man. If you want to do something, do it quick."

"What do you mean?"

"He's sick. Looked ready to drop. Couldn't have me out of there fast enough."

"What do you mean by 'sick', Beni?"

"I mean 'sick'. Guy's lost weight – almost didn't recognize him – and he was sweating like crazy. Looked like he could barely breathe. Couldn't walk straight."

_"What?"_

"Yeah. I'm not kidding." A heavy sigh. "Something happened to him, Kyo. You got any ideas as to what?"

"He was healthy the last time I saw him." That had been two months ago, the last time being a little after Iori's birthday. The other man had been hale and in his prime. Iori had just turned twenty four and couldn't have looked better. "If this happened right when…" He stopped, not liking where his thoughts led. "Did you talk to him, Beni?"

"Yeah and there's something weird about that, too."

"What about?"

"I asked him if he had anything to tell you. He looked like he did but refused to say. He's fucking scared of something, Kyo. Dunno what."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. Scared. You should've seen the look on his face. As though something was gonna get him. I've never seen him scared before. You?"

Just the thought of Iori Yagami being terrified was…well, it wasn't an image that came to mind at all. Yagami stared the world down and dared it to do its worst, always knowing that he'd come through just fine. He'd never seen Iori scared before. It just didn't happen. "Beni…did he say anything at all to you?"

"He asked if you were okay. Asked me twice. I told him you were."

"Did he know I was trying to –"

"Yeah, he did. But when I asked him why he didn't get back to you, he said he couldn't."

"He couldn't?"

"More like, he can't." A lengthier pause this time. "Kyo, I think it all goes back to the same thing. He's scared of something."

"Or someone." There was only one possibility and Kyo didn't like it. At all. "Beni, he was fine a few months ago. My dad told me he found out last month. The same day I couldn't reach Yagami."

An indrawn breath on the other end. "Shit. No way that's a coincidence."

"I asked my dad if he did anything to him. He said Yagami didn't concern him."

"And yet, you couldn't reach him."

"That's what bothers me. And now, you're saying he's sick as hell and…"

"Sick as hell and afraid to talk to you. To relay word to you. Kyo, you think your dad –"

"I don't think. I know." It was the one thing Kyo was afraid of, and this latest speculation by Benimaru seemed confirmation enough. Everything lined up – Iori's disappearance, the absence of response on that same day, the hardline rules laid down by his father, and now Iori suffered from some kind of ailment and still wouldn't get back to him. In the end, everything pointed towards his dad and Kyo was unable to shake his gut feeling that that was true.

Somehow, his father had done something to Iori. The question was what?

"So, what are you gonna do?"

What was he going to do? He wanted to get into his father's face, ask him some hard questions and demand some answers but… "Dunno where to start, Beni. Not like I can leave the house."

"You have people tagging along?"

"Yeah. My uncle and some other dipshit from the clan. To make sure I'm 'on my best behavior'."

"Well shit, that makes things difficult. Look, don't do anything stupid, Kyo."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, don't go screaming into your father's face. If Yagami's that scared, your father's got some leverage on him. I asked him if someone had threatened him. He told me 'no'. I'm thinking he's lying on purpose."

"He doesn't want you to know."

"That, or he doesn't want me to dig deeper. If it's your dad, what could he possibly threaten Yagami with?"

Kyo frowned, shifting the phone slightly. "You said he's weak?"

"Kyo, if I wanted to, I could've crossed the room and strangled him. I don't think he's capable of fighting back…not successfully."

"Then, it's not a beating. Yagami could rebound from that."

"You think –"

"If he's that weak and you're capable of killing him…" Kyo took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves. "The only thing my dad could've threatened him with is death."

"But I thought Yagami wasn't afraid of death."

"Not the idea, no. The method, the way out...it all depends."

"So something less than glamorous."

"Something shameful. Something even he can't tolerate. He has his pride, Beni. You know that."

"Of course I know that. Don't we all?" The other man huffed over the phone. "Well, whatever your dad's done to him, he hasn't lost his charm." That last word was delivered with heavy sarcasm. "He's as unfriendly as usual. Whatever do you see in him, Kyo?"

"It's not something you'll understand, Beni."

"Do _you_ understand it?"

"Sometimes, no but does it matter?" He'd thrown the covers aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes having adjusted to the darkness, Kyo made out the outlines of his room – all the corners and shapes. His phone was a faint source of illumination in the dark. "He's fine with me and I with him. Good outcome, don't you think?"

"You still have Yuki."

"I know that."

"How are you gonna deal with that?"

"You let me figure that out, okay?" He hadn't meant to get testy but Yuki was a delicate situation that he was still wracking his brains about. He had no solution yet.

"Do right by her, Kyo. She deserves more than this."

"You think I don't realize that?"

"Then why did you get involved with Yagami? Like that?"

"Things just happened. Can't really give you an explanation at four something in the morning."

"I get it. I get it. Sheesh." There was a brief pause as Benimaru stopped talking. When he resumed, his tone was more restrained. "I gave him my business card."

"He has your number."

"Yeah. Hope it does something."

"Beni, you're the only link between us right now. If he calls you –"

"He won't call you back, Kyo. Hope you understand that."

"If it means he dies, then I get that. Okay, if he calls…can you set up something between us?"

A slight hesitation from the other end. "Like what?"

"Oh, I dunno…like some business call. Your family does it a lot, right?"

"You mean a conference call? On a separate line?"

"Something like that. Something where he doesn't have to be afraid to talk to me. If he calls and you can talk him into that…"

"I'll do what I can. But he needs to call, Kyo. If he doesn't –"

"I know." Iori Yagami afraid and his dad the culprit behind it. What the hell did his dad do to Yagami that he was that weak now? Kyo made a mental note to check the ancestral records; perhaps, he could glean some knowledge from there. Like Benimaru said, if Iori's life was on the line, he absolutely _could not_ confront his father about this. Even an accusation would tip his hand and point the finger at some contact with Yagami. That would be fatal for the other man, and Kyo would never be able to live that down. "Thanks, Beni."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll let you know if he calls."

"Do. I want to talk to him."

"I'm sure he does, too. Just gotta get him past that fear."

"He just doesn't want to die. I'm sure it was a bad death my dad threatened him with."

"Shit." The other man over the phone made a sound. "You know, your dad doesn't seem like that kinda guy."

Kyo scoffed. "He's been a hardass ever since he found out. You haven't seen this side of him, Beni."

"Nor do I want to. Okay, I'll let you go. Gonna be five soon if we keep talking."

"Yeah. I need my sleep."

"So do I. Just giving you an update, that's all. I'll see if I can stop by sometime soon, 'k?"

"Sounds good. See ya, Beni."

"Good luck, Kyo. You're gonna need it."

Kyo scoffed again. "Thanks, man." He waited until the other hung up and his screen returned to its default display. Turning the phone off, he put it back on the bedside table and gazed into the darkness. So now that he knew what was going on with Yagami, he'd better start moving fast. His date with Yuki was in three weeks but according to Benimaru, he didn't have three weeks to spare. Not if the other's condition was deteriorating and who knew what that'd do to Yagami as time went on.

He had to see him soon. He needed to speak with him first.

_Dammit, Yagami. Call Beni. I need to talk to you._

He didn't go back to sleep for a while. Not until he was able to quiet the tumultuous thoughts in his head. Yuki. Yagami. Dad. Beni. Mom. All his relationships and the entanglements between them. His little spy game against his dad's. His mom's own network and her involvement in this. Yuki's sheltered innocence. Yagami's reticence and unheard of fear. His father looming in the near distance, always watchful and baleful – all in the name of the Kusanagi clan.

_Try to stop me, Dad. I'm not playing your game much longer._

He went to sleep, holding onto that thought like a talisman.

First contact had been made. Now, he just needed to wait for Yagami to make his move.

He hoped he'd call. He needed him to call.


	13. Chapter 13 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 13~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

Iori kept Benimaru Nikaido's business card in his back pocket, unwilling to throw it out along with his junk mail. Using the time in between his heat-stricken moments, he decided to clean out his apartment. Not only did it give him something else to do besides eat and sleep, which comprised most of his day, but the activity was a mental inventory of sorts. He went through his few belongings methodically, deciding which still held sentimental value and which ones did not. What he discovered, to his chagrin and pain, was that some stirred memories he didn't want to remember.

Not now. Not with all the recent happenings.

Nikaido at his doorstep. Kyo searching for him. Kyo wanting to talk to him.

He hadn't thrown Nikaido's card out. Did he expect it to do something for him? Was he holding onto false hope? Why did he still have it?

He put aside the small stack of music CDs he was working on and brushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling its dampness as he did. Even now, he was sweating – his heat spike had been a few hours ago – and with his intake of painkillers and his dose of breathing medication, he felt somewhat normal. Enough to be sitting on the floor, his music collection bringing back memories of tenderness, laughter, and the way how things used to be.

Miles Davis.

John Coltrane.

Masato Honda.

Musicians he'd introduced to Kyo, who only liked rock music and didn't quite understand jazz. It took a while but eventually, the other man admitted it wasn't bad and curled up alongside him listening to it. Sometimes, they did just that when they weren't in the mood for anything else. Those evenings or mornings were quiet and they'd both been content just being together. Smoky saxophone and deep bass notes in his apartment and Kyo's mild voice sometimes in his ear, a lighter contrast to his baritone. He'd fallen asleep with Kyo murmuring nonsense before, especially if he was tired from a long work day in the studio or venue.

Had woken up during those times to find Kyo still there, a warm presence beside him.

That felt like so long ago.

Blinking, Iori placed another CD case on the pile, relegating it to the 'box it and forget it' category he designated these items to. His guitar was staying, of course. It'd been the first big purchase in his life when music became serious for him and a good Rickenbacker was hard to find. One like his was rare, since it was a classic and Iori treasured it like he did his ring, his watch, and everything else that mattered to him.

The few girlfriends he had years ago, before circumstances divided them.

Kyo – once again, division occurring outside of their control.

Nikaido's card in his back pocket.

Iori paused for a brief moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. He scrambled off the floor, reaching for the medication on his bed-stand. Took a dose and waited for it to take effect. Coughed and sat down on the bed, on the rumpled and sweat-stained sheets. His sight fell on the bed-stand's single drawer and a memory arose. Putting his breathing medication aside with a clatter, he reached for the drawer, opening it.

Inside were his watch, the box for the ring he was currently wearing, some loose change, and a smaller black leather box tucked in the back. It was this that he retrieved, keeping the drawer open as he settled back onto the bed. Kyo had given this to him on his birthday and he'd kept it stashed away, unworn. That had disappointed the other man but Iori had his reasons. For one, he wasn't quite sure how to approach a gift like this. Second, wouldn't wearing it declare something?

Kyo thought he'd made a fuss over nothing.

Iori thought he was being reasonable. Besides, he didn't fuss.

The memory returning, Iori opened the box. Inside gleamed a ring the color of gunmetal, sleek and cool and dark. Kyo had gotten his ring measurements somehow – wasn't sure when – and commissioned it. It was the inner part of the ring that mattered, though. The part that made Iori unsure about wearing it. He could still recall some of their discussion that day a few months ago after Kyo handed it to him without his usual flourish in the living room.

_"Really, Kyo? Isn't that fucking blatant?"_

_ The other man shrugged. "Took it to some guy in Kyoto. He just thought it was a cool design." Kyo fixed him with a cool stare. "I'm careful, Yagami. No one's gonna track us down through this."_

_ He held the ring to the light, letting it fall upon the singular design etched in its inner surface. Expensive work – one part of it was polished to a mirror sheen; the other almost frosted insofar as could be done with steel. Must've taken a good chunk out of whatever allowance Kyo had, or a small part of his earnings from the tournaments. "You didn't need to do this. I don't celebrate –"_

_ "Stop being a killjoy and just take it, Yagami." _

_ "I already have a ring."_

_ "I know. You wear it every day. You can switch up, you know?"_

_ Now he looked at the brunet across from him, eyebrow raised. "It's not like being in bed, Kyo. This is…" Kyo colored slightly but didn't say anything otherwise. Iori looked at the ring again, at its beautiful finish and hefty weight. Expensive and meaningful. "I'll keep it."_

_ "Will you wear it?"_

_ "With that design?" He looked again at the other man. "Your jeweler in Kyoto mightn't know but it's different here. If someone were to see it…"_

_ "They won't."_

_ "And you can be sure how?"_

_ "Because you won't let anyone else see it."_

_ "Rings get misplaced. Lost. Stolen." Iori closed his fist around the ring, feeling its luxuriant smoothness against his skin. "I can't guarantee anything, Kyo. If someone saw that…"_

_ "They won't."_

_ "Hard enough to keep this under wraps, you understand? This just…" Well, it complicated things. To Iori, this was an outright declaration of their relationship. One they had to keep secret for so many reasons. "I'll keep it. It...it means a lot." That was as far as he'd go without outright saying thanks. He never did. By now, Kyo knew how to read his unspoken thoughts._

_ The expression on the other's face was still somewhat unhappy. "Wear it, Yagami. It's not meant to be kept in a box."_

He hadn't worn it. The possibility of discovery should the design become known was too great a risk and Iori considered all the outcomes – none of them pleasant for either him or Kyo. In the end, he put it away and despite Kyo's disappointment the last time they met, Iori thought he made the right decision. How was he to know that barely three weeks later all his caution would be for naught and that his life would turn out like this?

He turned the ring to the light, to illuminate the inner curve.

There, against the dark gunmetal sheen, shone the unified circle made by crescent moon and the corona of the sun. Burnished and bright, the corona stood in sharp contrast to the moon's subtly frosted arc. Instead of being diametrically opposed, the crests of their clans were as one. To Iori, this symbolism was direct and telling. It was a good thing Kyo hadn't considered their names on the ring – for one, that would've been suicidally stupid and two, Iori would've smacked him upside the head if he'd done that. It reeked of melodrama and stupid romance stories and at least Kyo had common sense not to go there.

It was a nice ring, though, and even now, the weight was comfortable.

Back in March – _was it really only that long ago?_ – Kyo wanted him to wear this. He didn't even try it on during his birthday and the other man's disappointment was palpable. He didn't like making Kyo feel that way – tried not to do it often – and now that he had the ring to hand, Kyo wasn't here. Instead, Benimaru Nikaido was Kyo's messenger and go-between and Kyo…Kyo was trying to reach him, trying to cross that divide that Saisyu made and…

And what was he doing?

Nikaido's business card in his back pocket. Iori reached for it with his other hand, removed it, placed it on the bed and looked hard at it. At the number above Nikaido's e-mail and below his tagline of 'Professional Model (United States & Japan)'. He refrained from snorting at that, for despite his usual derision aimed at the blond man, Nikaido was anything but an airhead while here. He'd shown some keen insight – how had he guessed at his predicament? – and seemed to take his responsibility as messenger seriously. If anything, Iori owed him some respect for that. Some, not all.

Nikaido was still an unknown in this situation between him, Kyo, and Saisyu. How far his role played, Iori had yet to discover. Wiping his face again, sweat spattering on the floor, Iori looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

He was at a crossroads now and he had to decide.

Nikaido's card with its contact information offered him the slimmest of possibilities. If he were to call, he could ask if arrangements could be made. He wanted to see Kyo, if only a glimpse. As long as he didn't approach him, he wouldn't be running afoul of Saisyu's warning. Surely, they could share the same spaces without him offending the Kusanagi clan as a whole?

Kyo was scrambling to find him. To reunite.

What was he doing? Cowering? Waiting to be rescued?

Iori made an indecipherable sound and looked back down, opening his eyes. He wasn't a coward – didn't consider himself one – and in any other circumstance, he'd tell Saisyu Kusanagi to fuck off. But in his current condition, that'd be a deadly mistake and it wasn't as though he could fight any of them now…

He took a shaky breath. Nikaido's card. His life in the balance.

He was still losing weight. Each day, he grew gaunter. Soon, he wouldn't be able to recognize himself in the mirror. Soon, life just might stop without him realizing it. It'd be an end but it'd come silent and sudden and without pain.

Before that though, he wanted to see Kyo.

To make sure he was all right. That he could carry on, after.

Nikaido could relay his message. If it came to that.

Sliding his usual ring off his finger, Iori slid the gunmetal one in its place. Felt the design against his skin, as if reaffirming his bond with Kyo. His fingers were thinner these days as well, so he jammed the chrome steel one on top, keeping the new ring in place.

He felt better doing so, as though arming himself for what was ahead.

He picked up his phone. Dialed Nikaido's number. Waited.

"Benimaru Nikaido speaking."

"Nikaido," he said, keeping his standard terseness. "This is Yagami."

A pause. "Oh shit, you did call. Great."

That confused him. "What –"

"Kyo was hoping you'd call. It'd been a few days, so he was getting worried."

"I don't have time to chat."

"Friendly as usual." He couldn't miss the sarcasm oozing over the other end. "Yagami, we do need to talk, so if you can cut out the asshole act for once, I'd appreciate it."

That got him to snort.

"Glad you find that funny. Look…Kyo wants to talk to you."

"You know I can't."

"We get that. We kinda figured something was up, so…Kyo asked if I could arrange something else. Something safer."

"What do you mean?" Did they both realize his situation? Just from that one meeting? From that single exchange of words? Were both of them that savvy?

"Since we understand you don't want to get caught, Kyo asked if I could set up a conference call. Your number won't show on his record. You'd be anonymous, except to those of us on the call. That'd be me and Kyo."

Tempting but… "You're sure it's safe, Nikaido?"

"No one's watching me, so yes. The number will be my usual conference call one."

"Your business line."

"Exactly. So nothing to fear. What do you say, Yagami? You in?"

"Kyo will be on?"

"Of course he'll be on. He's only been trying to reach you for the last month or so."

Iori winced. All the messages and videos on his phone. He still had them – couldn't bring himself to delete them. "What day? What time?" He was in now. There was no going back from this step taken. A roundabout to Saisyu's warning, engineered by Kyo and surprisingly enough, Benimaru Nikaido. He'd never expected the other member of Japan Team to help him but Nikaido's friendship with Kyo went back and he was grateful for that now.

Fear still curled cold and deep in his gut. He hoped he made the right decision.

That he wasn't about to face a blistering white-hot end afterwards.

"It's safer if we talk late at night. How does two days from now at three A.M. sound?"

Three in the morning? He was usually out by then, between the fatigue, the pain, the heat spikes, and his lack of energy. Three in the morning… Iori gritted his teeth. "I'll be there."

"Great. Here's the conference call details…you got a pen?"

That required a trip to the kitchen where he scrawled the details down on some random piece of junk mail with a leaking ballpoint pen. Folding the piece of cardstock, he slid it into his pocket. Just the short walk exhausted him and Iori felt the telltale signs of yet another heat wave coming through. His breath was short, his lungs burned, and his knees were going weak. "Fuck."

"You okay, Yagami?"

"I…" He needed to get back to his bedroom. He couldn't collapse here. "Nikaido…we have to…" He needed his medication before… "Talk later."

"Shit. If you need help –"

"Done enough." He gripped the phone in fingers that threatened to give on him. "I'll…" Goddammit. "I'll be there."

He exited the call, stumbled into his room and almost knocked the medication off the bed-stand as he lunged for it. He'd barely taken it before the heat wave ripped through him, tearing consciousness apart in a swelter that forced his graceless fall onto the bed. He heard something hit the floor – two, perhaps? – before darkness closed in on him.

_I need to see Kyo. I have to, before…_

Then all was silence.


	14. Chapter 14 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 14~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

He usually didn't like to read. He found studying boring, which was why his parents despaired of him ever graduating high school and besides poetry, Kyo found words in a book bland. But now because of Iori's predicament, he was inside the ancient family archives, buried elbow deep in old manuscripts. Not all of them he understood – the characters were mostly _kanji_ and some obscure – but the ones he could figure out, he went through line by line.

His father had done something drastic to Iori and until he knew what it was, he wasn't going to rest easy. The other man was no longer healthy – was weak to the point of being unable to fight – and that meant it went beyond a simple confrontation. Of course, it also brought to mind another chilling fact, which Kyo wasn't able to hide from.

If his father hurt Iori and threatened him, then he knew where he lived.

The question was how? He understood Benimaru using his family connections to uncover information, to network and search but Saisyu Kusanagi? How did his dad come across Iori's address? It wasn't as if his former rival made that obvious, especially to those he didn't care to know or trust. Yagami preferred keeping to himself, so how did his father stumble across or deliberately seek out the other man's whereabouts?

And after finding him, why did he terrify Iori to the point where he was at now?

Kyo flipped the page, following the fluid lines of calligraphic characters down with his finger. Calligraphic script made everything harder to read and after a minute, Kyo considered the current bound volume a lost cause. Closing the book, he placed it back onto the dark ironwood bookshelf and glanced around. Their clan kept the archival room neat and clean without the smell of mold, rot, or dust and with its high ceiling and well-situated windows, the place was bright and airy. Ideal for studying or just going through the family's history.

It wasn't history he was looking for, though.

He was searching for techniques. For techniques from the founding of the clan.

Whatever his father did to Iori, it wasn't just a simple beatdown. Iori Yagami had lost enough weight to throw off Benimaru and that would've taken time. That meant a technique of some sort – something to sicken or debilitate him. It also wasn't something he knew or had ever been taught, which meant either it was advanced or…

Or being taught the technique carried its own responsibility. Its own weight.

Kyo tightened his jaw, grimness settling over him. It was possible that only heirs coming into their own after the death of the previous one learned the technique. Or the technique was only taught during times of great need. During a war, for instance. Or for a deadly confrontation with rivals, with one's enemies.

He used to be Iori's rival. That meant his father's rival was Yagami's old man.

Could it be possible that…

He got off the polished wooden floor and looked towards the direction of the entranceway. There were no guards here or hovering clansmen – why would there be? – which meant he was free to search around. All the manuscripts here were about the clan's long history, complete with a lengthy list of the founder, his family, and their families all leading up to the present. It made for boring reading and while he was occasionally interested in 'so-and-so great-great-grandfather being a badass warrior', it wasn't the reason why he came here.

So if the histories were here, then…

He didn't know the place well, having considered ancient text a waste of time but as he looked around, he noticed a small door off to the side. It was close in color and tone to the walls – constructed to be subtly present – and that was intriguing. Why was this even here?

Curious, Kyo strode towards it. Laid his hand on the door.

Felt it give a bit under pressure, as if something had unlatched. Moving his hand to the left, he slid the door open, revealing a narrow hallway leading straight in. There was light inside and as he stepped forward, he noticed a door to his left and one to his right. Squaring his shoulders, he closed the sliding door behind him and turned towards the leftmost door.

Opened that one and found himself in a small room, which was neatly packed with rolled scrolls and old manuscripts bound with cloth and sewn together with red thread. The shelves were full and the scrolls were tied with silk cord, four in each diamond-shaped space that the wooden structures created for them made. Kyo did a quick count. Twenty-four scrolls in this room. He glanced at the shelves. Triple that for the books.

He took a deep breath. Where to start?

Before he picked up a book or unfurled a scroll, he left and checked out the rightmost room. There were smaller cloth-bound manuscripts here and some thinner scrolls, tied with cord and sealed with carved stone beads. He saw the clan crest on the beads, delicate work with the corona in relief. It reminded him of something else but he put that aside for now.

He had something to find. He didn't have time to reminisce.

He didn't have time to waste. While he had every right to be here, if he disappeared for too long, someone was bound to notice and he didn't want questions asked. That meant he needed to open up a book or unroll a scroll and hope he was on the right track.

Kyo looked at the stone bead seals again with their significant symbol.

Picked up the closest one to hand and carefully undid it.

The scroll rolled open, crisp characters written in dark ink revealing its contents. A quick skim showed it wasn't about technique but about the craft of swordsmanship. They did have _samurai_ in the ancient family lines – just because one knew flame didn't mean it was wise to eschew steel. After tying and sealing the scroll back up, Kyo put it aside and reached for the next one. He tried to comprehend its contents but the script was hard to read and many of the characters were obscure. Yagami probably would've been able to read it – the other man had been given a classical education, after all.

It was the thought of Iori and his current dilemma that made him go for the next scroll. That one, too, wasn't what he was looking for. Time passed and Kyo decided he needed to look elsewhere. Perhaps he wasn't in the right spot. Maybe this room wasn't it. Maybe these scrolls weren't it.

Could it be one of the books? If so, how would he even begin to…

_Calm down. Calm down._ It was easy to become frazzled surrounded by all this paper and knowledge but freaking out wasn't the answer. If it wasn't in these sealed scrolls, then maybe it was in the room he'd left earlier. He should head back there and check. For all he knew, the scrolls were there to mislead. If that was the case…

_It's always the places you least expect, huh?_

As he stepped back out into the narrow corridor, he listened for any sounds outside. Nothing so far. Good. The last thing he needed was for someone to find him flipping through a book or reading a scroll of ancient techniques, wondering why he suddenly took an interest in an area he neglected for so long. He didn't want to explain anything, so fortune was on his side. Might as well take advantage of it and _search_.

He went back into the first room, did a quick scan of the shelves and scrolls and tackled the latter. It didn't take long before he realized the scrolls held rudimentary techniques – stuff he knew, was taught when he was younger – and put them aside, focusing his attention on the shelved volumes. After going through one row of books, he also slated them for idle perusal, if he chose to. So far, none of the material in either room dealt with what he was looking for.

Then again, maybe he was approaching this wrong.

_Where would the clan hide or store a record of ancient techniques? Where would Dad, Mom, or Uncle Hajime put…_

It had to be here. But he wasn't looking for something obvious.

_Think, Kyo. Sure, your clan goes back centuries but ancient techniques are only a handful. The strongest ones won't be scribed in large books or scrolls. It has to be something smaller, something…_

He gazed at the shelves again. Began to move the books aside on a hunch.

_You would only show this record to someone learning it. To someone initiated in it, which means…_

Which meant it was hidden and would only be known to someone seeking it. To someone shown its whereabouts.

_Older buildings have their secret passageways. I know Yagami told me his clan estate has hidden rooms and secret tunnels. Clandestine meetings and political exchanges, assassinations and assignations – all in those places. So if our estate has something like that…_

He moved the last book on the shelf to the counter below. Found himself staring at a small switch tucked flat and flush against the wooden panel of the bookshelf.

_Huh. Didn't quite expect it like that._

He pressed it. Heard the sound of contraptions moving behind the shelf. Kyo stepped away as the lower half of the shelf slid into the recesses of the wall, revealing a low tunnel. He hadn't known this existed. Why would he?

_Where does this lead?_

If he went in there and someone was to come in…

He took a deep breath. He wasn't going to find his answers playing it safe. Might as well find out where this led, if it took him to the source he sought. Ducking low, Kyo shifted himself into the tunnel on his belly. It was a crawl and that meant it wasn't hidden in the tunnel itself.

Which room or open space was this going to…

_Shit. I hope I'm doing the right thing here. If I get caught…_

He was the Kusanagi clan heir. In disgrace right now but still carrying the rank and title. No one had stripped him of it yet. He could always declare his rights – consider this as something he ought to know and why wasn't he privy to it?

Many ways to spin things to his advantage, if he so chose to.

Yagami found ways to turn a situation to his advantage. Perhaps it was time for him to do the same. He'd always taken things for granted – had it handed to him, easy and painless. But now he had to fight to reunite them and…

His days of easy living were done. Had been since that day a couple months ago.

Was he only realizing it now?

After shuffling through the tunnel, Kyo stopped. Craned his head forward. He heard voices. Not in here. Beyond. _That sounds like…_It sounded like his dad. His dad and his uncle? What?

Moving closer to a wooden panel – one step removed from those voices – Kyo pressed his ear against it and listened. From here, while he couldn't hear all – the barrier made certain sounds unclear – he was able to get the gist of the conversation.

Uncle Hajime first. "You know your son's been having late night calls."

"I checked the numbers. It's his friend, Nikaido-san. No worries there."

"I'd still check it out. Make sure he's not up to something."

_Oh shit. Laugh it off, Dad. Don't want you prying into…_

"You worry too much, Hajime."

"My nephew's been acting up over this boy. How can you be sure he's obedient now?"

"Because he knows the clan sees any further action on his part as treason."

He heard his uncle suck on his teeth – a habit Kyo abhorred. "Harsh, brother."

"Necessary. He needs to remember who he is. Not even a clan heir is free from the clan's judgment."

Something was said but Kyo couldn't hear it. "…elopement of the Yagami heir and one of the Kusanagi women."

"Inexcusable but understandable. At least it wasn't our heir back then."

"Hasn't happened since."

"No. She was executed. An ignominious end. The Yagami heir was killed a month later."

"Does your son know this story?"

"He does not. You should tell him, Hajime. Make it clear to him."

"I shall." A pause. Something else mentioned but muddled. Damn the wood panel! "And the boy? The one you put out of the way?"

"No contact. Seems like my warning has taken hold."

"Not like he can protest. Not with what you did to him."

"He shouldn't have meddled. Try to steal my son away." Faint sounds of objects being shifted. Was that perhaps the red paste pot? "Kyo thinks nothing of it. The boy is an enemy, whether he believes it or not."

"He's young. We all tend to lust at his age."

"He has a girlfriend. No excuses for him, Hajime."

"None whatsoever. Just offering a plausible reason for his unwise actions."

"If he wanted a boy, he could've chosen some other. Why the Yagami heir?"

A sound. Kyo wasn't sure if something had moved or if his uncle had shrugged. "I told you. He's young. Young and stupid. He'll awake from this and look back and laugh. He'll move on. Saisyu, your son knows better than to make the clan astir. That'll be bad for him. And for the Yagami heir."

"That boy won't last too long, anyway."

_What?_

"Ah. His father…"

"His father barely lasted six months. Of course, we later understood the blood curse kicked in as well. If the boy outlasts his father, it'll be a miracle."

"You could've killed him."

"No need to give the warning, then."

Silence. "I would've killed him, brother. He took what did not belong to him."

"Let him live in fear for however long he can endure."

Kyo clenched his teeth, anger boiling. His father _did_ do something to Iori! Something that shortened his life span – already short enough – and it was serious enough to cause Iori harm. Was the other man going to die? That can't be! He hadn't even seen him yet. Not since that day when all he got was radio silence and now he knew why. Yagami was tougher than that – he wouldn't just drop dead, would he?

"Where's your son now?"

"In the archival building. Curious but maybe he's finally taking some interest in our clan's written history."

"Unlikely. I'll head over there myself. See what he's up to."

"You worry too much."

"Better safe than sorry. My nephew has shown poor judgment lately."

"I'm sure it's nothing but all right. Whatever you think best, Hajime."

"I'll see you later, brother."

The sound of the _shoji_ door sliding open and then shut. His cue to leave. To back the hell out of this tunnel, dust off, restore the books and get the hell into the main room before Uncle Hajime found him snooping. He'd thought his father a hardass; his uncle was worse. His father had left Iori alive but in dire condition. Uncle Hajime would've just murdered him. No way was he getting caught red-handed by his uncle; he dreaded the expression on the older man's face.

Scooting backwards was harder – _how long did it take from his father's study to here?_ – and he was sure he tracked dust and smeared it all over his shirt. Nothing he could do about it. Just move, move, move! When he finally cleared the tunnel, he shot up onto his feet – almost smashing his head against the sharp edge of the bookshelf counter – and slapped the switch. The lower part slid shut, leaving him back in a regular room with books and scrolls.

He breathed hard. He wasn't done yet.

Snatching the bound volumes, he slammed them back onto the shelf, glanced around and quickly scooped the scrolls up. Placed them back where they belonged. Looked down at himself, grimaced, and did the best he could to clean himself. Then counted down in his head and bolted out the room and into the narrow corridor.

Nothing outside yet.

_Goddammit, move! You can't get caught here!_

He worked the mechanism from inside, opened the sliding door, and almost spilled into the main room. He was breathing too hard, probably looked a mess, which meant if Uncle Hajime saw him…

Kyo turned, booking it for the main entrance.

If he could beat his uncle there, head for his room…

There!

He was out and around the building, nestled in the nearby foliage when he heard the steady footfalls that characterized his uncle. A stalwart member of the clan. Saisyu Kusanagi's brother was trustworthy, unshakable, and not a man to subvert. One of his guardians.

"Kyo? You here?"

_Fuck. If he'd seen me in there like this…_

Moving now would be unwise. There were windows and he'd make a lot of sound. He just hoped his uncle satisfied his curiosity and would leave. Would leave and not head straight for _his _room, because then he'd be fucked.

The sound of footsteps in the open. The sound of them receding.

Good.

Kyo waited for a moment and then moved. He made it back to his room without incident – there was no clansman by his door when he returned (fortune still with him) – and promptly removed his shirt and pants. Kicked them under the bed and changed his clothes. Brushed his hair. Wiped off his face, forearms, and hands. Forced himself to calm down, to control his breathing. Treat it like a cooldown after practice, after sparring.

It was important no one knew. It was important he didn't give them a reason to suspect.

But he had to be careful now. His uncle was suspicious.

It was up to him to tread with caution. Even Benimaru's calls were seen in a different light. That meant…that meant he had to warn Benimaru. That he was now being monitored for the timing of his calls as well. If only…if only his clan wasn't so…

Kyo threw himself onto his bed, arms folded under his head.

Fuck.

Things were a lot simpler a few months back.

* * *

He got the text message later, giving him the details on the arranged conference call. The timing was dangerous in light of what he now knew. If they got caught…

But Iori was going to be on the call and that was bold. He couldn't afford to pass it up.

He texted Benimaru back, confirming the call from his end.

Tomorrow at three in the morning.

Kyo looked at the ceiling of his room, closed his eyes, and hoped.

He hoped Yagami would still be there – whatever of him survived his father's onslaught, was still fighting to make his way to him. Because they were both fighters in body and soul and just because the body quit didn't mean the soul did.

_A poetic line. Better kept to myself, Yagami would say._

Three in the morning. He'd be there.


	15. Chapter 15 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 15~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

Two fifty-eight in the morning.

Iori pressed the numbers on his phone's screen, punching into the conference call's direct line. His hands shook, his wrists ached and he was running on an unhealthy dose of caffeine but hell if he was going to miss this opportunity. Since he didn't want to fall asleep in bed, he hauled his ass out to his small eat-in kitchen, kicked a seat aside, and slumped down into it. His T-shirt was already damp and he was perspiring. That was what the bottle of water next to him was for.

Two fifty-nine.

He entered the conference call admittance code and waited. He'd taken the strongest painkiller and his breathing medication beforehand, hoping to allay any possible symptoms. Rare for him, he'd also eaten well tonight – forced down some pork croquettes and even some chicken – and managed to keep it down. His morning and afternoon were uneventful, mostly time spent sleeping. He hoped it counterbalanced what he was doing now – that he wouldn't suffer badly for it tomorrow.

He was exhausted but he was going to make this call. It'd been over a month…

Three in the morning.

There were two sounds ringing in – people entering – and Iori gripped his phone tight, mouth dry. After two seconds, he heard the very familiar voices of the other two men announcing their arrival into the call.

"Benimaru here."

"Hey, Beni. Kyo here."

"Nice! You made it! Is Yagami here?"

"Dunno. Yagami, you here?"

Hearing Kyo's voice live after so long hit Iori like a blow to the gut. It was as if he'd been robbed of speech after listening to the other man talk. Sweat trickled down his face. He ignored it. His mouth was drier, if that was possible. His apartment was eerily quiet.

"You sure he confirmed, Beni?"

"Yeah. He did. Maybe he's late?"

"Yagami? He's punctual."

"Hmmm…"

The more he heard Kyo's voice, the deeper the ache was. He just wanted him here but that was hoping for too much, wasn't it? After what befell him, he learned to keep his expectations low. He didn't want to get hurt again by denial of his wants and desires. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath – the muscle around his healing sternum tugging – and spoke. "I'm here."

He didn't even have to say his name. Kyo knew his voice.

"Yagami?"

"Yeah." He opened his eyes and gazed down at the floor by the table. "It's me."

"Were you waiting long?"

"No."

A brief pause. "That's good." Then, Kyo's tone changed and Iori tensed. "Beni, if I start going 'One, two, three', stay on the line and talk. Yagami, if that happens, that's your cue to leave. You don't need to leave the call but mute your phone or something. There's still some suspicion aimed my way."

"Shit. What's going on now?" Nikaido from his end, tone concerned. "Is this even safe for you?"

"My uncle's been monitoring my calls. Noticed the late nights. Might be serious."

"Might be? Should we even be on?"

"Hell yeah we should. I haven't spoken to him in…"

"It's been over a month." Iori heard the words leave his mouth, flat and suppressing pain. "We can't…we can't let this go by."

"Yagami's right. Beni, just stay on – just in case."

Nikaido sighed over the line. "Okay. But give me the warning once you suspect something. Yagami mightn't have much time to remove himself if –"

"Know that. Will let you know in case. Hope I don't have to."

"Then I'll hang in the background. Let you two talk."

With that, Benimaru Nikaido fell silent. It was just him and Kyo now, sharing a connection that had been severed since that fateful day a couple months ago. Iori reached for the bottle of water and took a drink. His throat was dry. It ached too.

"Yagami." Kyo speaking, his tone gentle. "How are you holding up?"

Not how was he doing or was he doing okay. Kyo knew – he knew it'd been rough for him – and refrained from asking the most useless of questions. Iori fought off the sudden impulse to laugh, for it'd be bitter and he didn't want Kyo to hear that. "I'm surviving."

"Just that? Surviving?"

"It's not exactly living, Kyo. Not like this."

Silence.

Iori held the phone against his ear. Waited.

"Miss you, Yagami."

His throat ached even more. He swallowed and then blinked. He wasn't going to cry.

"I wanted to see if you were okay that day. You never got back, so…"

"I wouldn't…" He closed his eyes to hold back the wet heat building up behind them. "I wouldn't have been there."

"Is it okay if I ask? Or will that –"

"I was in the hospital. You wouldn't have gotten a hold of me."

He thought he heard Kyo muttering something under his breath. Nikaido, thankfully, maintained his silence. "Did my father hurt you, Yagami?"

Now he went silent.

"Yagami?"

If he confirmed it, then Kyo was bound to lose his temper. That…could go wrong in so many ways. Either Kyo would confront his old man and then Saisyu would know – he was as good as dead then – or Kyo would do something rash and have it backfire on all of them. Or, he could raise his voice in the dead of night and alert someone. Or worse, set his face against the clan and become anathema to them. If that happened…

Iori didn't say anything.

"Yagami, you still here?"

"Yeah."

"I just want to know –"

"I was in the hospital. That's all you need to know." Kyo didn't need to know the terrible details of that afternoon. He'd told Saisyu as much before his life began its abrupt and cruel turn. Nikaido was here as well – he didn't need to know, since it didn't concern him. What happened to him – to Iori Yagami – on that day was meant for him alone. No one else needed to bear that burden. Only him. Only he and Saisyu Kusanagi knew.

It wasn't something he wanted to share.

"Then he did hurt you. Bad enough to put you in the hospital. How long, Yagami?"

This also wasn't a detail he wanted to give.

"Long enough."

Over the phone, he heard Kyo breathing heavy through his nose like a mad bull. "Beni told me you lost weight. Can't walk straight. Can't breathe easy."

"You wouldn't recognize me."

"I don't believe that, Yagami. Not after this long."

Six months they'd been together and Kyo was _this _sure? After his ordeal, after the month-long stay in the hospital, _he_ began to doubt the face in the mirror. To doubt his own frame as it was continuously ravaged by the brutal aftereffects of Saisyu's action. If he was questioning his own appearance and Nikaido did the same, then how could Kyo be so sure that he'd know him by sight? It'd been over a month!

"Kyo, you don't know. Don't assume."

Silence drew down and fell in between them.

Nikaido, if he was listening, also didn't say anything.

After a long minute, Kyo spoke. "I want to see you, Yagami."

Iori breathed lightly through his nose and clenched his teeth. He wasn't going to cry. "That…mightn't be possible."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not even supposed to be talking to you." The threat that hovered over his life was still there, was still very much actionable. "I can't even approach you."

"Did my dad say that?"

Iori didn't respond.

"He did, didn't he?" Behind Kyo's voice, he heard suppressed rage. "Yagami, it works the other way, then. _I _can approach you."

"Are you mad?" If Saisyu was hellbent on keeping Kyo away from him, there was no fucking chance for Kyo to make that happen. Not without serious consequences. "Kyo, you'll set the entire clan against you! If you do that –"

"I should've been there. Maybe you wouldn't be…"

Iori opened his eyes and blinked a few times. His cheeks were wet. "And then what, Kyo? Fight your old man? Kill him? For me? You know what you would've done –"

"At least you'd have a fighting chance. He didn't give you much of one, it seems."

"I didn't want to fight him. I didn't."

"You should've."

"And if I killed him? Or injured him? Kyo, your clan would've called for blood vengeance. You'd have to lead it. Against me. It'd destroy you."

Kyo was quiet over the other end.

"I didn't want to do that to you."

"So you…"

"He knew, Kyo. I don't think it would've made much of a difference."

"It might've, if I was there."

Iori took a shaky breath. "It's done, Kyo." There was the weight of finality behind his words, behind his tone. "There's nothing you can do about it."

"And you? Are you fighting it, Yagami? Whatever it is my dad did to you."

If he was by himself, completely offline and disconnected from the world, he'd weep. "I'm trying." It felt like an uphill battle, against insurmountable odds – a battle he might lose – and the most he could give was his desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable, whenever it might come. Iori was sure it would – it just depended when.

"Yagami," Kyo said, tone too gentle, "I need to see you."

"I…" He wanted to as well but the strictures bound him like a vise. "It's too dangerous, Kyo."

"I know you want to as well. You're never one to say those thoughts, though."

Intimate and private and Nikaido was listening. Iori cleared his throat, which still ached. "You can't know I'm there."

"What? Why?"

"Because if it's discovered we set it up, then…"

"Did my father threaten to kill you? Is that why you're hesitating?"

He let his silence speak for him.

"Yagami…" Kyo sounded at a loss for words. "I won't let him."

"That's not up to you."

Brutal and blunt, yet true. He'd lived with that knowledge for so long now that it was burnt into his soul, etched into his mind. If Saisyu Kusanagi wanted him dead, it wasn't for Kyo to know. That'd been his understanding of the warning Saisyu imposed on him. A complication, Kyo knowing. Better to get it done and over with by other members of the clan. Make it seem like he just disappeared or possibly moved away. No one needed to know it was murder.

With that, Kyo would just have to move on. Iori knew he could.

But at this point, it seemed neither one of them was ready to do so.

Hence, this call.

"My dad doesn't dictate my life. He doesn't dictate yours."

"Oh?" Sharpness springing out against pain – his natural defense. "Why the secrecy? The tip to Nikaido? Why aren't you here with me if he's not doing that?"

"Yagami –"

"You're barred to me, Kyo. Because of your clan. Your old man."

"You're not –"

"He has me by the balls. What don't you get?"

Kyo went quiet over the other end, the silence extending. Iori wiped the side of his face – sweat pouring down – and took another drink from the water bottle. The caffeinated high was wearing off and he was wrung out, mentally and physically. All the hurt was coming through, barbed and biting, and bitterness with it. All of it suppressed over the last month and Iori couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop it from changing the entire tone of the conversation.

He took the phone away from his ear. Looked at the time.

Fifteen minutes had passed since they started talking.

It felt like much longer.

"Yagami…" Kyo speaking, voice faintly discernable. "Don't give up."

He wanted to laugh at that but knew what would happen the moment he did. Instead, he put the phone back in its regular position and stared ahead at the blank undecorated wall before him. When he replied, his voice was steady and his volume low. "You don't know what it's like."

"I don't. Will you be all right?"

"I might not make it past this month."

"What do you mean?"

"Nikaido told you I'm losing weight. I still am."

"How much are you talking, Yagami?" A frisson of alarm in the other's voice.

"I'm down to sixty-seven kilos, Kyo." He waited, letting that fact sink in.

A momentary silence. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not."

"Yagami," Kyo said and Iori heard desperation coloring his tone, "you have to hold on. You can't –"

He sighed. His hair curtained his face, damp and shielding his view like it always did. "I'm trying, Kyo. Didn't I tell you before?"

"Then keep trying. You can't die like –"

"I don't want to but it's hard. Whatever your old man did, it's eating away at me. I might not be able to sustain myself for long."

"I…" Another pause. "I overheard my dad and uncle speaking. They said your dad lasted close to six months."

Iori let out a derisive bark of laughter. His family history coming back again, as always. "And you believe I have the same odds?"

"You're tougher than your father, Yagami."

"My old man fed on hatred. He only lived so long because he died hating. You see me doing the same?"

"You're better than him. You can live past that."

"Tell my body that. It might have other thoughts."

Into this uneasiness, Nikaido piped up, evidently interested in something they said. "Kyo, how'd you overhear your dad and uncle?"

"I was trying to find out what my dad did to Yagami." A slight hesitation. "Don't worry, Yagami. Nothing happened."

"Yet." Just what the hell was Kyo doing? Was he endangering himself?

"Went to the clan archives, dug around. I think he used a technique on Yagami. One I have no idea about."

"How'd you guess?" Kyo couldn't have gleaned that possibility from just the few clues he had. That was impossible. At least to him it was.

"Your weight loss in so short a time. Your sweating. Your inability to walk straight."

"And from that you –"

"Yeah. Because a beating won't do that to you."

Iori closed his mouth. Leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes.

"So…you went digging around and what?"

"Beni, you hear of old estates having secret passages? Like the really ancient houses?"

"Yeah. You mean the Kusanagi estate has them?"

"I found one. In the archival building. I was looking for an ancient techniques scroll. Think it might be a book now and a small one at that."

"And then what?"

"There was a passageway – more like a tunnel – leading from the building to where my father's study is. Only there was a panel blocking the way."

"Kyo…" Nikaido's tone was serious and weighted with concern. "If they knew you were there…"

His lover laughed over the phone, brief and without mirth. "They didn't."

"And then?"

"I heard them talking. About me. About Yagami. About his father. About the clan."

"And that's how you overheard about my old man?" Iori said, cutting into the conversation. "About how long he survived?"

"Yeah."

"The blood curse took him. That's what we believe."

"Sounded like a combination from what I heard."

"So you believe I have a chance."

"Unless you get as unlucky as him," and here, Iori felt Kyo's pause over the line, as though doing so would allay any further misfortune, "I think you can. I need to see you, Yagami. It'll be easier, then."

With Kyo beside him. That was what he wanted but the possibility seemed so…

"I want that, too."

The question was how?

"Kyo," Nikaido said in the serene silence that followed, "how are you gonna do that? Don't you have guardians?"

"Yeah, I…" A sudden stop. "One, two, three, Beni. Go."

Immediately, Iori yanked the phone from his ear and hit the mute button on his screen display. Put the phone down on the table and stared at it, trembling. Fortunately, Nikaido had started a conversation, as though he'd been the only one talking to Kyo the whole time. He hoped, fervently, that whoever was encroaching hadn't heard the earlier parts of their discussion.

It was the difference between life and death for him.

"So, you want me in the Japan Team again –"

"Wait, Beni." A heavy silence. "What do you want, Uncle Hajime?"

Iori listened. Was this the uncle Kyo mentioned? Was he someone else he needed to watch out for?

He couldn't hear what the uncle said, but he heard Kyo clearly. "Just talking to Benimaru Nikaido. My friend. Any problem with that?"

_Shit. Don't get defensive. He'll sense that. Know something's up._

Another moment of agonizing silence. "Yeah, I know it's late. He sometimes works all day. Can only talk around this time. No, you can't have my phone, uncle. I'll put it on speaker, though."

_Nikaido, you better sell this and sell it well! Goddammit!_

"This is Nikaido-san. Who am I talking to?"

A brief lull. It drove Iori mad missing out on the pertinent other half of the conversation. Then, Nikaido spoke, confident and unshaken. "Nice to meet you. Yeah. Kyo and I were just going over plans for the tournament."

Silence.

"I had a busy schedule. And well, I decided why not? Kyo picked up, so yeah."

Good. Nikaido sounded natural. Was being natural. Iori might've severely underestimated the other man. He wasn't going to do that again.

He heard something this time. Not so much words but something had been said.

"We'll wrap up soon. Right, Kyo?"

"Yeah. We will."

Another faint sound in the background – it seemed to carry the mild tones of admonishment. Iori thought the voice was gruff and strict. Were most of the Kusanagis like that? How had Kyo ever survived among these people?

"Understood, Uncle Hajime. I know it's almost five. I'll be done soon."

Several minutes of silence stretched tight and nervous, bleeding over into his place, as though the atmosphere seeped through his phone. Iori took a hurried drink of water, throat dry and sore. One, two, three. That was how Kyo counted. One, two, three. It was almost a mantra – something to keep him from freaking out in his kitchen.

After a while, Nikaido broke the silence. "Uh, we in the clear?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. Good thing you heard him."

"I heard something. Looks like he just missed the most damning part."

"If he heard you saying Yagami's name –"

"I know." A quiet second. "Yagami, you still there? It's safe now."

Iori picked his phone back up, unmuted it, and placed it next to his ear. "Are you sure, Kyo?"

"Very. I watched him leave."

"He's not hanging outside eavesdropping, is he?"

"No. I made sure of that."

He sighed in relief, the strain of the moment passing. He was tired but the conversation filled a void that he carried within him for so long. "Is there any way for us to meet, Kyo? Or at least see each other?"

"I don't want to get you killed."

"I can see you from a distance."

"If I knew you were there, I'd close that distance, Yagami."

He wasn't going to cry. "Yeah. You would do that."

"Maybe Beni and you can figure something out. Would that be okay, Beni?"

"Yeah. Just don't be an asshole, Yagami."

He did laugh this time, a bark that also had the shadow of tears behind it. "You're asking too much, Nikaido."

"Hey, I can ask, right?"

"Beni, I'll talk to you tomorrow or whenever you're free. Yagami, we'll be in touch."

If he could reach out and touch Kyo through the phone, he would, as sentimental as that was. "I'm still trying, Kyo."

"Good. Do. I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going down that easily."

"Sleep well, Yagami." A pause. "You too, Beni."

"I'll get my beauty sleep. Good night, Kyo."

"Good night, Beni."

"Glad you two were able to talk. Man, you guys are for real. Didn't think that was possible."

"That's what we thought."

Iori smiled, although he knew neither Kyo nor Nikaido could see it. "It surprised us, too."

"Surprised?" He heard Kyo's teasing tone. "More like shocked."

"Ha!"

"Okay, you two. I'm going to sleep."

"See ya, Beni."

With that, it was just the two of them.

"Wait for me, Yagami."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"That's good. Hang in there. We'll make it through."

"Watch yourself, Kyo."

"And here I thought it was just me looking out for you. I'll be careful."

"Do. I don't want to lose you."

"Heh, that's a bit too close, eh? Good night, Yagami."

"You too, Kyo."

And then, Kyo was out.

Iori left the conference call, turned his phone off, and stared at the wall. He was tired but maybe he'd sleep better tonight. Better than he had the previous nights for the past month or so. Maybe he wouldn't have nightmares tonight. He'd spoken to Kyo. Heard his voice again after so long with its nuances that a mere video recording couldn't capture. He just might see him again.

Might. The possibility was there.

He wasn't going to die. Not like a dog. Not pathetically.

Kyo was here. Would be.

Iori closed his eyes. Let the tears fall but for once, it wasn't out of misery.

_I'll be here, Kyo. You'll find me._

* * *

**Comments**: It was so cathartic writing this chapter. It needed to happen.

So according to official SNK stats on Iori, his weight is 76 kilograms (168 lbs). The guy is six foot, so he's already underweight even with all that muscle. At this time, he is 67 kilograms, which is 148 lbs., which means he is in a serious health crisis (aside from everything else) and it will only worsen if he continues losing more weight. This is something he is trying to prevent at all costs.


	16. Chapter 16 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 16~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

Iori's voice resonated in his head. Broke his heart. He'd never heard the other man like that before – never in such despair, with resignation behind the melancholy and the deep-seated grief lingering in his tone. His volume had been low, Kyo recalled, except for the times when he'd raised it in alarm. There was also the silence. The pervasive silence – the times when he wasn't sure if Yagami was still on the other line. The times when Yagami never directly answered his questions.

Somehow, his father had managed to terrify Iori into forced acquiesce.

He may never know exactly how.

Iori didn't want to tell him. There was a technique involved, however. Yagami had confirmed that much. But the details weren't permitted to him, and Iori didn't want him to go against his clan. Both clans didn't forgive betrayal – punishment was harsh and there were no amends to make – so while Yagami suffered alone, he was also worried about him. Iori knew him – knew what he was capable of when enraged.

So did Kyo.

It was the reason why he was in the training hall going through his forms, working off his frustration and rage through exercise. Now was not a good time to talk to his father or even his uncle. Particularly his uncle. He had his own suspicions that Uncle Hajime suspected something, and giving his thoughts validation was the last thing he wanted to do. No. Best play it safe and practice, channeling fury into fighting and bettering his skills.

No telling if he would need them.

He wanted to see Iori but Benimaru would sort that out with the other man.

He also had Yuki's date in a few weeks.

_You have to choose, Kyo. You can't leave both of them like this._

But the choice was hard. Whoever he chose, the other would be left aside. He didn't want to do that to Yuki. Faithful Yuki, who was always waiting for him. But at this juncture, neither could he do that to Iori, who was in desperate need and yearned to see him. Iori Yagami had lived his whole life around his and if he shunted him aside for Yuki…

Kinder to just cut his throat then.

Kyo couldn't do that to him. Wouldn't.

That didn't mean he'd decided, though. He was trapped between two impossible choices and didn't know which way to go. There was no easy solution for him here.

_You need to decide. No one's gonna do it for you._

His mother had left it in his hands – he was an adult, after all and this was a quandary of his own making. If he hadn't gotten involved with Iori, then this struggle would be nonexistent. But if he'd gotten Iori to that point of realization and then just left him…

Wouldn't that have been crueler?

Better for the other to continue hating than have love rejected.

Kyo couldn't do that to him. Hadn't.

So here they were, separated and both of them trying to cross that divide made by his father. Kyo threw a punch and then followed up with another, arms straight but limber and his feet shifting to accompany his movement across the polished wood floor. His movements were precise and decisive, unlike the tangle of thoughts in his mind. Each blow would hit, would wound, would leave an opponent reeling or gasping at his feet for breath. He could do that to people; problems couldn't be resolved in the same way. If they could, he and Iori would've done it by now.

Sixty-seven kilos, and Iori said he was still losing weight.

Kyo tried and couldn't even imagine what he looked like now. With everything else, could Iori still be considered a fighter? Or was that path barred to him as well?

Would he be able to stand before long? Or was death a very real possibility?

Iori believed it to be so. _"I might not make it past this month."_

Kyo hadn't wanted to believe that. Still didn't want to but what he wanted and the reality were two very different things. If Iori couldn't sustain himself, couldn't regain any weight, then…

_He'd still die from the blood curse. You know that._

That gave them time, though! A chance to…a chance for Iori to _live_.

What the hell had his father done to shift his death date so close?

And why? All because Iori fell for him? He'd done the same! Why was Iori punished so brutally, and he not even a member of the Kusanagi clan?

Kyo stopped in the middle of a transition. Lowered his arms.

_Because he's not a member of my clan. If he was, this wouldn't even be an issue. But because he's not…_

Uncle Hajime's words coming back to him. _"He took what did not belong to him."_

As though he was a possession, unable to make his own choices. Iori didn't take; Kyo himself had freely given, had permitted the relationship to happen. None of it was Yagami's fault; yet, that was how the clan (except him and his mom) saw it. So, Iori was brutally put in his place and now, Kyo found himself in a hard place while his lover faced the possibility of a slow lingering death alone.

He couldn't – _wouldn't_ – permit that to happen.

_So what are you going to do about it, Kyo? Are you all talk and no action? What are __you__ gonna do?_

Iori Yagami had and was still continuing to pay for a choice _he'd_ made. That was unfair. Kyo wasn't going to sit here and wait for fortune to fall into the right places – to make right all the wrongs, because that was a child's fantasy. He couldn't rely on his mom – it was his problem, not hers. Benimaru was the go-between but he could only do so much. Yagami was fighting to survive, with enough burdens to bear, and Kyo didn't want to put any more on him. In the end, trapped though he was, he still had more options than Yagami did and he was the heir, was he not?

Why not put that to use?

Grabbing his towel, wiping the sweat off his face and flinging the towel over his shoulder, Kyo headed out of the training hall. The clansman's expression was inscrutable. Kyo only gave him a mere glance and continued towards his room, passing by all the screened paper walls facing the courtyard. He still had Yagami's spare key, secured in a place that only he knew. Souji was in Tokyo – had moved there shortly after relinquishing his position as heir years ago – but his other cousin, Aoi…was she still around?

Did she know about his disgrace? Would she even care?

Come to think of it, Aoi was a bit of a rebel as well.

_Do I have her phone number? I don't usually call my cousins._

Well, if he didn't, maybe his mom would know.

He wasn't allowed his bike but Aoi was a biker. Could possibly even have a spare helmet.

Could she do him a favor?

Most importantly, would his dad trust her with him? She was family, after all.

_Not everyone in the clan is in opposition to me. Or to Yagami. Maybe she's another one. Should've considered her sooner. Then again…_

Then again, for the past few weeks, everything was a blur of rage and disbelief and shock and he didn't know who his allies were. He couldn't just trust anyone. He didn't know who sided with him or would rat him out to his dad and uncle. And so, Kyo treaded with caution and suspicion – feelings that he never associated with his clan before. If Aoi would be willing to help him, then…

_If you can do this, Kyo, and not get Yagami killed…_

Well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Benimaru could continue his arrangements with Yagami.

Kyo had more immediate plans.

* * *

**Comments**: Aoi Kusanagi now enters the story. She's always been a side character even in KoF: Kyo (the game where she first shows up, I believe), but since I'm delving into the Kusanagi clan, why not bring her in? She doesn't seem to toe the line – did request Orochi-tainted flames, which Shermie gave to her – so she might be interesting here.

Also, she is a biker. Kyo needs transport. Let's see how this pans out.


	17. Chapter 17 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 17~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

It'd been little over a week before an envelope stuffed with _yen_ bills arrived in his box. The pristine front bore the sender name Kenji Wakamatsu, the official stamp of the organization backing the band he was once with, and addressed to recipient Iori Yagami with his residential address listed. Just the sight of the band manager's name pained him; Iori closed the envelope and put it on the table. Scooping up the junk mail, he tossed them into the recyclable paper bin and shoved that aside with his foot. It wasn't time for his neighborhood's garbage collection yet, but he felt better today and decided to use the hours he had to review some unpaid bills.

One of them was his rent payment for last month. He'd been delinquent on that, but his landlord understood his current condition – unlike Wakamatsu – and gave him until the end of this month to pay it in full. Since he wasn't sure if he'd still be around by then – his body resisted all attempts to keep weight on – Iori made a note in his phone to take care of this soon.

There were bills for utilities as well. Those, he could pay off with his credit card or simply have a convenience store do it for him. That meant, though, taking a trip outside and with his deterioration, the likelihood of him passing out in public was high. He didn't want to go through that again and yet…he wanted to see Kyo. That meant leaving his apartment, taking the train, and heading towards a destination where he could see the other but Kyo couldn't see him.

Another pain – this one, sharp anguish.

He meant to keep Kyo safe. If Saisyu was capable of this, he was able to do so much more.

The clans were implacable when it came to their regulations. Had his father still been alive, Iori wouldn't have to worry about all this. Blood on sheets, staining them red. Crimson spatters on the floor. Wetness on pale flesh growing cold. He'd be dead and his father would go after the Kusanagi clan, using his death as a pretext to continue their ancient feud. Of course, his father would only be able to do that if the blood curse didn't exist. If he wasn't struck down and devastated by Saisyu Kusanagi's mysterious technique.

If the Yasakani hadn't changed who they were and declared blood feud against their ally, none of this would've happened.

But then he wouldn't be Iori Yagami and he'd never know Kyo Kusanagi.

It wouldn't be the same. Not at all.

Iori closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the tips of his fingers. He exhaled and winced, feeling the muscles in his chest tugging hard. His ankles were sore today and so were his wrists. The rings on his finger were heavy – he'd need to wear them around his neck soon – and the reminder that Kyo's gift was there calmed him a bit.

But only a bit.

If the Kusanagi clan was anything like his own, Kyo's staunch refusal to bend to his father's will would force Saisyu's hand. For a son to disrespect his father – for the _heir_ to flout the regulations – without consequences would cause the head patriarch to lose face. That wouldn't be tolerated for long. Insolent and disobedient heirs in his family bloodline had been cut off – with one actually killed – leaving behind children raised by unmarried female relatives or men not yet dying of the blood curse.

He wasn't sure how the Kusanagi clan did it but it couldn't have been any different.

Flagrant disobedience was met with severity. Brazenness cut down before it could take root.

Kyo sneaking around his family estate, seeking out what was hidden. Kyo cared but Kyo was rash. The tunnel led from the Kusanagi archives to his father's study, Kyo had said. Iori knew upon hearing that where Kyo could've gone next. There would be no other place to keep a book of ancient techniques, made known only to one.

If there was a book, it'd be with Saisyu Kusanagi.

Iori rubbed the bridge of his nose again, the bone hard against his thinning fingers.

He was worried. They'd almost been caught that time.

_Kyo_ had almost been caught that time, if not for his keen ears. If that'd happened and the truth had come out, Iori didn't have to imagine the consequences. Kyo would lose most of his privileges; Nikaido would no longer be welcome at the Kusanagi home, and he'd be dead before noon. The clan would wrap up matters quickly, suppress whatever information they could from leaking out, and move on.

Life would continue. That was just the way it was. That was how it always was.

Life continued for him, didn't it? Even the way he was now.

Iori lowered his hand and fidgeted with the rings on his finger, twisting them around. Kyo was always at the forefront of his thoughts and even more so now with him taking calculated risks. It made him nervous, knowing Saisyu and Kyo's uncle – Hajime, was it? – kept watch over him like hawks. If Kyo slipped up even once…

Being the heir wouldn't protect him. He'd be made an example of – a lesson for posterity.

He was sure it'd hurt Saisyu to exact that kind of penalty on his son but the clan came first. That was how he was taught; that was how Kyo was taught. They'd followed that for years – hated each other because of it – and then rejected it by finding common ground. By finding each other. By looking past the familial hatreds and prejudices and by doing so, cast their clans' ironclad rule aside. However, that was only them. They'd known that; hence, keeping their relationship a secret.

He hadn't expected to be nearly killed that afternoon.

He hadn't expected Saisyu Kusanagi to be the one delivering that unforgettable message.

Heat in his veins and fire in his lungs.

_I had six months. I should be grateful even for that._

He was looking at less than three weeks. Maybe not even that, if he couldn't stop losing weight. He hadn't eaten today – no appetite – and wondered how soon it'd be before he couldn't get out of bed. All his future medical treatments for his burns – pointless. Iori felt his death looming, incipient and thought back to what Kyo told him.

His old man had lived for close to six months afterwards.

Kyo believed he could do the same or better.

Iori gazed down at his hand, at the skin and bones it was becoming. He was trying; yet, his efforts were for naught. Whatever he gained, he lost just as quickly. He wasn't going to have six months. Or even three.

He wasn't like his old man. He wasn't that lucky.

He didn't want to die – wasn't ready – but that, too, wasn't his choice.

He'd had six months with Kyo. Perhaps that was all the time he was given. He clenched his hand into a fist – grip weak – and uncurled his fingers slowly. Gazed up at the ceiling and then back down. Took a deep breath, winced, and let his hand fall alongside the chair. Iori closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Kyo was going to come find him but for what? He wasn't going to last.

_You're not dying like a dog. Not like that…not like…_

How was he to stop it? _How?_ There wasn't any way for him to…

_Check yourself into a hospital. They might…_

He didn't want to go back. The first time was enough. But they had fluids and ways to keep him alive and at least he'd have a fighting chance. Here, like this, he was helpless and could only watch himself waste away. What kind of end would that be? What would that do to Kyo?

Kyo was rash. Kyo was volatile when upset. If he died and Kyo saw that…

_It'd turn him against his clan. Against his father. You can't allow that to happen._

It'd destroy Kyo. He couldn't…

Iori opened his eyes. Took his phone out of his pocket. Pulled up one specific name.

He began to type.

_**Nikaido, this is Yagami. I need to speak to you. It's about Kyo.**_


	18. Chapter 18 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 18~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"Heading out, Kyo?" The broad-shouldered man at his door stepped in without waiting for his response. "Your father might think you're behaving but a father wants to think best of his son. We need to talk and you're going to listen."

"What about?" Kyo looked at his uncle, keeping his gaze steady and his face neutral.

"What were you doing in the family archives?" While Uncle Hajime wasn't anywhere nearly as big as his father or as well-versed in the fighting arts – one of the benefits of not being the former heir – he was still intimidating and very sharp. Kyo kept his sights on him and tried not to give off any signs of wariness. What was he being wary about, after all? He hadn't done anything wrong. But Uncle Hajime's body language with his crossed arms and his upright lean against the door frame bespoke of an ingrained belief and he had to be careful.

"Doing some reading." It was the truth. Just not the complete truth.

"You don't like to read."

_Careful, Kyo._ "I went through the histories." That wasn't a lie, either.

"What were you doing in the back rooms?"

He didn't remove his level stare or look away. "It's my right to go in there, uncle." He was the heir, wasn't he? "I was curious. Decided to look around."

"You did more than look around." Uncle Hajime's face grew stern. With his short-cropped hair and lack of a beard to soften his features, the older man reminded Kyo of a steely-eyed falcon. "You found the passageway. Don't think I didn't check."

"I did find it." Best not to deny that fact.

"You went in."

"I did." He needed to remain calm. Kyo continued standing, unwilling to sit down on either his bed or his chair. By standing, he sent the message that his uncle, although outranking him by age and seniority, couldn't pull rank with him right now. He was still the heir and he was going to make that count. Yagami would've done the same, if he wasn't the last one in his bloodline still alive.

Alive for now. Kyo kept his face still.

"You went in." His uncle's tone was harder and disapproving. "Did you happen to hear anything, Kyo?"

_Shit. Stay calm._

"The sound was muffled." He couldn't afford to play dumb. Uncle Hajime knew how the passageway worked. If he tried to bluff his way out of this by playing the fool, he'd be found out in a matter of minutes. "I couldn't really hear anything."

"You weren't there when I arrived."

"I got bored. I left."

"You left in a hurry." His uncle uncrossed his arms and strode across the room until he was face-to-face with him. Only his slight height advantage prevented Kyo from quailing at the assertive action. "What were you looking for, Kyo?"

_Don't lie to him, he means. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I…_

Kyo took a page from Iori's usual method during conversation. He stayed silent.

His uncle's brows furrowed, making his expression fierce. "Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it."

_I know Dad did something to Yagami. I just want to know what. Maybe I can…_

In the face of his silence, his uncle backed down, withdrawing a short distance away. It was too early to consider it a victory, however minor it was. Kyo kept his eyes on his uncle. From here, it was hard to miss the muscles in his uncle's arms, accentuated by his shirt sleeves. Underestimating him would be his downfall. His dad might've been softened up by his mother; on Uncle Hajime, there was no such effect.

"Kyo, let me tell you a story."

As though he was a fucking child – a kid needing his hand held. From what he heard in the secret tunnel, he had an idea as to what Uncle Hajime wanted to make known to him. It was a warning of sorts.

He kept his mouth shut and waited.

"So, you read our clan's history. Were you aware of the scandal fifty years after the Yasakani turned their backs on us and declared us their mortal enemy?"

If it was in any of the books, Kyo didn't see it. Most people wouldn't keep a record of ancestral disgrace. It would just be conveniently forgotten until it was used like a club to keep people like him in line. The Kusanagi clan used to execute traitors, his father told him. A woman from their clan had been involved centuries past.

"Dad never mentioned it."

"If he had, perhaps you wouldn't be so foolish." Uncle Hajime had never been one to mince words. "Fifty years after the blood feud was declared, one of the Yagami heirs decided otherwise. One of our women decided to oblige him. That was her mistake. They had planned to slip away one night, meeting at a certain bridge, never to look back. Unfortunately for him, she was discovered by one of the servants on her way out. She was detained, of course."

Kyo watched his uncle, listening as the sad story unfolded.

"When he found out what happened, the heir to the Yagami clan was grief-stricken. But his own clan had discovered his duplicity and threatened him to keep silence. We dealt with the errant woman. A month later, the Yagami clan sent him out to battle without the usual precautions. He had to have known it was a death sentence. He never made it back. One of the few casualties of that particular war in our shared history."

"How did they meet?"

"On the road. He with his guards; her with her ladies-in-waiting."

Kyo allowed a brief silence before he spoke. "Perhaps they were in love."

"Forbidden. They knew that. _You_ know that."

Speaking of being blunt… "Uncle Hajime, why is it such a big deal? We aren't fighting anymore. There isn't any feud between us. Why are you and Dad so –"

"Because the clans will always be in opposition. Who's to say the Yagami heir isn't using your misplaced affection as a ploy to tear our clan apart?"

"Only because you and Dad fail to see –"

"To see what, Kyo? How you're neglecting your girlfriend, who will one day become your wife? Mother to your children? You're going to throw all that away for that bastard son of –"

_"Uncle…"_

"The boy's going to die, Kyo. What then?"

"That's for me to decide." As much as he wanted to throw his knowledge of Iori's plight in his uncle's face, doing so would seal Iori's fate. "The blood curse will take him but before that –"

"He's not meant for you." The statement coming down hard like a hammer blow. "Put your childish daydreams aside, nephew. You only have one person pledged to you and it isn't him."

Kyo struggled to keep his temper in check, clenching his fists. "And that's for you to say?"

"The clan comes first, Kyo. Whether you like it or not. Remember that story. What happened to that woman."

Not even a veiled threat. The woman had been executed. Was his uncle threatening to…

"I make my own choices, Uncle Hajime. You can't take that away from me."

His uncle fixed him with a stony glare. "Don't be stupid, nephew."

"I decide who to let into my life. Not you, not Dad, not anyone else. If I think Iori Yagami's acceptable, then he is. Who are you to tell me otherwise?"

"The clan decides in the end. Don't make it difficult, Kyo."

_Difficult for me. Hell, all this over Yagami and me being…_

"It's none of your business, uncle."

"Don't say words you'll regret, nephew."

"You have anything else to say?" He had plans to put into motion and he needed a quiet place to do that – a place away from guardians and eavesdroppers and people reporting his every move to his father. He dared not leave the room while Uncle Hajime was still here – his uncle would be the kind to pry, disregarding his privacy in light of his suspicions. It was the reason he always had his phone on him. If that was taken away from him…

"No. I'll talk to you another time, Kyo."

"I'm not changing my mind."

"Don't be stubborn." His uncle threw him one last cutting glare. "Think about your future, Kyo. About what that means for the clan."

_And my wants and desires? Am I to ignore that because of the clan? The fuck would I do that?_

"I'm done talking, uncle."

"I see that. This disappoints me, Kyo."

He didn't say anything.

Instead, he waited until the older man left. Then, he shut the door, called Aoi – his mom did have her number – left her a message and hung around his room securing his possessions. Only then did he leave, heading once again for the training hall to let off some steam.

* * *

Later that day, his phone vibrated. When he checked, it wasn't a call but a series of texts from Benimaru. At first, he was amused but as he continued reading, his attitude changed. Iori was anxious about him – about his snooping around – and had relayed this message in clear, no-nonsense terms. _**Kyo**_, one message said, _**Yagami wanted me to tell you "not to be a goddamn idiot." His words, not mine. Doesn't want you to get hurt.**_

With his uncle's warning in mind, this was some uncanny premonition from Yagami. That, or Iori knew the inner workings of the clan based off how his own worked. They did share similarities there, despite all the differences. It was still a miracle how they overcame those differences. Pity the others hadn't realized the boon that was.

_**Is he doing okay, Beni? Let him know I'm safe. Has he spoken to you yet about possibly meeting up?**_

Part of him knew Iori treaded cautiously, his life hanging in the balance. Another part of him just wanted Yagami back fierce, aggressive and full of his usual arrogance and bravado. While his father hadn't taken away all those aspects from the other fighter, he'd taken enough. Kyo wanted to see him in person, to see what remained of the other man – to see if there was anything he could do to help him.

_**Tell him to hold on. Tell him I'm being careful.**_

Once Aoi called, if things fell according to plan, he'd be able to see him.

Perhaps then, he could put Yagami's fears to rest.

Perhaps then, they could both move on.


	19. Chapter 19 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 19~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

_He couldn't breathe. Fingers tight around his throat, pressing hard and deep. He couldn't see the hand but it was choking him and his strength failed him yet again. He sank into darkness and heat and then it was agony._

_ Fire within; burning without. There was pain; yet, he couldn't scream._

_ He couldn't breathe…couldn't…_

_ Flickers of orange and crimson flames – ember-bright in the darkness – and they encircled him. Were sentient – knew who he was and what their purpose was. Flaring high into columns, white-hot and blinding, they converged on him and began scorching, blackening flesh, destroying._

_ He couldn't scream. Couldn't…_

_ Fingers around his throat, cutting his air off. The swirling of an ink-black sleeve._

_ The fading shine of a sun, stitched in gold._

_ A final burst of heat. Pain. Emptiness. Silence._

_ Nothing. He was nothing._

_ There weren't even ashes…_

Sheets were flung aside as he wrenched himself out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom, sweaty and panicked. His heart beat against his chest, as if seeking a violent exit and he could barely see past the horrific dream-haze still superimposed over his vision. His throat itched, his body ached – waves of heat surfacing and receding and growing hotter each time – and his stomach flipped. Sliding back the bathroom door with enough violence to rattle the tempered glass in its frame, he made it to the toilet just in time to lose whatever he ate hours before.

Cold tiles hard beneath his knees; tears hot in his eyes and ceramic cool against his overheated cheek. His hands trembled as he gripped the toilet bowl and nausea hit him again. There was nothing left to vomit but bile and as he retched, misery drove into him like a blade, twisting cruel and cold. He was falling apart, wretched piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Except for going to the hospital. Having himself stuck with needles. Undergoing a battery of tests. Hearing the nurses on the floor. Listening to the beds being transported, possibly even his. The stench of death and blood. The way how light from outside would fall on his bed, if he received a room like that. The doctor's entrances and exits and instructions given to the staff. Sedated sleep, if necessary. Fluids from the IV bag into his arm. A quiet existence. A prolonged lingering.

If he went, he could still die in there. There was only so much medicine and care could do. It wasn't as if he could live there. The moment he left, it would begin all over again. Sooner or later, death would come for him and he'd be powerless to prevent it.

Would he even want to stop it by then?

Exhausted – the nightmare vestiges wearing off – Iori flushed the toilet and staggered to his feet. Heading for the sink, he turned the tap on and rinsed his mouth, spitting out the foul taste of bile. He tried to avoid looking at his reflection in the mirror – he didn't like what it showed – but still caught glimpses of dark purple shadows under sunken eyes, bones sharp under skin, and dull red hair. Everything about him seemed colorless. Lacking. It wasn't a pleasant sight.

Splashing cold water on his face, letting it trickle down, he allowed himself a small careful breath. Vomiting had strained his chest and the area around his sternum hurt, as if he'd pulled something. He needed a painkiller and water. He was already dehydrated and it'd cripple him if he didn't remedy it. Sleep was out of the question. He didn't want to close his eyes for some time.

Taking one of the pills with him, Iori left the bathroom. The automatic sensor would shut off the light behind him. One less thing to worry about.

His jaw ached. He'd been clenching his teeth and hadn't realized it.

The nightmare continued to hound him, images sinister in his mind. Darkness and fire, burning and death. Reduced to nothing. Just like Saisyu Kusanagi swore he'd do if he…

Why was he dreaming this? Why were his nightmares worsening?

What had he done to deserve all this? All this hell?

It was no use complaining but he felt a sudden urge to just scream. Because nothing made sense anymore. Kyo was trying to reach him but he couldn't do the same – not like that. Not without jeopardizing his life – a life he'd been fighting to hold onto since the afternoon it essentially ended.

Because that was what happened. The life he used to have died that day.

Iori Yagami – the way he was – died the second Saisyu laid hands on him.

He'd never been free of him since. Those words – that threat – steered his actions, checked his impulses, and threw him into moments of overwhelming gloom. The other man's presence still seemed to linger in his apartment and Iori stopped asking himself what else he could've done. Like he told Kyo, Saisyu knew. Perhaps it was all meant to happen. Perhaps this was punishment for him desiring someone he couldn't have.

Perhaps…Kyo was never meant for him.

Iori shuddered; the mere thought painful. He put the painkiller in his mouth and bit down, grinding the pill between his teeth. Bitterness soon followed. He swallowed, the taste going down his throat and souring his stomach.

He needed a reprieve from this. From the nightmares. From the helplessness.

He needed to do something besides watch from the sidelines as events unfolded around him. As Kyo defied his clan, risking his own rank and life to understand and save his. As Nikaido took on his role as go-between, relaying messages between him and Kyo. The only notable action he'd taken was to call Nikaido, which wasn't much. It left him feeling useless – he wanted to do more. Something bolder. Something more in line with how he used to do things.

But that was before Saisyu Kusanagi truncated his life.

Before darkness and flames scared him from going back to sleep.

Before…before he was frightened of anything, really.

A single sun, stitched in gold thread, bright against a black silk sleeve.

Iori shivered. Forced himself into the kitchen, where he grabbed two bottles of water from the small refrigerator. He took a quick drink there, already fatigued from the abrupt awakening and the uncomfortable experience after. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face. His body heat surged and he almost dropped the bottle even as he leaned against the wall to break his fall. The backs of his knees protested as he slid down to the floor, scarred flesh resistant and tough.

He wanted to weep but his eyes were dry.

He was too hot – internally scalded – and crying wouldn't do him any good.

It hadn't brought Kyo back before. It wouldn't do anything now. Nothing but show how pathetic, weak, and wounded he was. He hated feeling this way – always had – yet, what could he do about it? That was the problem, wasn't it?

Was there anything he could do besides keep trying?

He tried – continued doing so – but it felt futile with his declining health. Nikaido had reached out to him to coordinate a public "meeting" which he wanted; however, he'd held off, mindful of the time he passed out in the subway station. Shame from that incident still remained. He didn't want Kyo to see that. To feel pity for him. To wonder what happened to reduce him to…

Because Kyo would realize and have that look and…

He didn't know if he'd be able to handle that.

Another reason why he didn't want Kyo to know he was there if…

Iori sighed. Rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Allowed his body to go slack.

Darkness and fire. Saisyu Kusanagi had worn a black _haori_ with sun crests that day. The day his life became an unending struggle to be something more than just survival. The day the countdown on his mortality shortened, leaving him with much less time than he hoped.

If the nightmare was a portent, then his time was even less.

What would give it away?

He still felt that dream-phantom hand at his throat. It felt real even now.

Death by strangulation? It couldn't be worse than being burnt to nothing. At least he'd have a body left for cremation. He was allowed that much dignity, right?

He wanted to see Kyo.

Phantom fingers indenting into flesh, producing phantom bruises.

He wanted to see Kyo, yet…

Iori was afraid.


	20. Chapter 20 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 20~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"Nice to see you again, cousin." Aoi Kusanagi cradled her motorcycle helmet under her arm, completely at ease while standing in the entranceway, shoes still on. "Uncle Saisyu, Uncle Hajime – hello." His cousin smiled, a mischievous little grin that suited her free-spirited personality and shifted her weight. Her red biker's suit creased in places as her footing readjusted; she aimed a full smile at him. "I'm here for Kyo."

"What for?" his uncle asked, suspicion evident in his voice and face. Even his father looked unsure, studying Aoi as if trying to figure her out.

"There are rumors that Kyo's grounded. Not allowed to leave the house. Sounds boring. And since Souji's still in Tokyo, I decided to see if those rumors are true."

His father and Uncle Hajime glanced at each other.

"So it's true." His cousin took their full measure with one level gaze and then turned to him. "So, Kyo…you wanna head on out? I'll take you downtown."

"What? No – absolutely not," his uncle said, taking a step forward.

"He's not even allowed downtown?" Aoi asked, only the thinnest veneer of politeness masking the hint of mockery in her tone. "You're just going to keep him cooped up in here?"

"There are reasons for that."

"Rumors, uncle. Might be good to let him out to dispel some of them."

"She is family, Hajime." His father laid a hand on his uncle's shoulder. "If we can't trust her, then who do we trust?"

"How much do you know, Aoi?" Direct and to the point, as always. Uncle Hajime never failed in that regard.

"I've heard tales of some scandal. It's all very hush hush, uncle. Whispers of an illicit lover. As if my cousin would do that." A glance in his direction. He'd told her enough but the details he'd withheld. If she knew too much, Aoi might overplay her hand and Kyo wasn't taking chances with that. However, she was a terrific liar and he marveled at how deftly she steered the conversation in their favor. "You don't want those rumors to become public gossip, do you?"

Bullseye.

If there was anything his father – by default, his uncle and all high-ranking males in his clan – dreaded, it was a stain on the clan's reputation. While he may have disgraced himself within the clan, it was all private for the moment. What Aoi just stated was their worst fear. If it became known that the Kusanagi heir was imprisoned within his own home, under watch and guard, and the explicit reasons why, then their name would resurface in the public in the most notorious way. There was no way in hell his father and uncle would stand for the typical bystander spreading word about him and Iori Yagami. It was unsavory. It was probably a reason for assassinations in the past – silencing those who would disrepute the clan.

"What are you suggesting, Aoi?" His father this time, voice quiet and strong. He was also still, like stone, like immovable earth and it reminded Kyo of Iori a long time ago. He wasn't sure if Iori was like that anymore – not after what he'd gone through.

"Let him out. I'll take him downtown. Or do you not trust me, Uncle Saisyu?"

The expression that crossed his father's face was the exact opposite of his uncle's.

"Brother…"

"She's family, Hajime. It won't hurt for her to –"

"You're sending guardians out, yes?"

"What?" His cousin made a tiny sound, close to a scoff. "Does he need babysitters? Why are you setting guard hounds on him, uncle?"

"Because he can't be trusted."

"And me? I'm not having guardians hovering over _my_ shoulder, uncle. Unless _you_ don't trust me."

That took his uncle by surprise; Kyo saw him hesitate and exchange a quick glance with his father. His father nodded. His uncle stepped back, relinquishing control.

"Aoi, you're just taking him downtown, correct?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I'm trusting you, Aoi. Bring him back safe, okay?"

"You can trust me on that, Uncle Saisyu."

"Good." His father's smile at his cousin only lasted until his gaze fell upon him. What he received was a stern countenance instead. "Behave yourself, Kyo. Consider yourself lucky."

He did. It was the result he hoped for. What he hadn't expected was how well Aoi manipulated both his uncle and father, using the clan's reputation like a double-edged blade. It was a skill he didn't have. If he'd attempted the same, the results would've backfired on him.

"So," his cousin said, smiling. "Ready, Kyo? Weather's good outside."

He couldn't have gotten out of the house fast enough. Uncle Hajime still looked disapproving but true to his father's word, there were no guardians accompanying them. Just him and Aoi. She even had a spare helmet for him.

He had his phone, wallet, and house keys in his pocket.

He also had the spare key to Iori's apartment. Because that was necessary. It was why he was doing this, after all.

* * *

"So explain to me why Uncle Hajime and your father looked ready to say 'no'."

True to Aoi's word, they had swung by downtown, picking up a quick lunch along the way. They were now in a park, eating their sandwiches and drinking their sodas. Since Kyo needed to discuss in further detail about the reason for this outing, his cousin had picked a quiet and isolated area where they could talk without being overheard. Aoi was curious and Kyo knew he needed to reveal more before they could move into the next part of his plan.

"They don't trust me. Being outside like this…"

"You are planning something, aren't you, Kyo?"

"I do have an illicit lover. Dad found out about it. It's been…kinda rough."

"Really? You? The 'can't-do-wrong' shining heir to the clan?" His cousin put her soda down on the bench, placing her hand under her chin as she studied him. "Just who is this illicit lover?"

Kyo realized she hadn't assumed his lover was female. The question was generalized and open-ended. He studied her as well, taking in the long brown hair which framed the sharper angles of her face. Her eyes were a dark shade of brown like his – brunettes and brunets ran in the Kusanagi line. He thought about Iori and how redheads ran in his clan's line, always setting them apart from everyone else. It was hard to blend in and stay unnoticed when something as simple as that – natural red hair and crimson-brown eyes – stood out among a sea of black and brown. Hair dye amongst the young and trendy had helped, but the Yagami clan had always been an anomaly.

It was one of the things Kyo asked him about when their relationship first got started.

"You know Iori Yagami?"

"What? Him?" His cousin looked astounded, not horrified. "Isn't he your rival?"

"_Was_ my rival."

"How'd that happen? Did you two just get tired of fighting and –"

"It's a long story. Not entirely sure what happened, but Yagami wasn't killing me even though he kept saying so and…" He shrugged. "I said something, things happened and…"

"Wait wait wait. How'd that lead into…" Aoi's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you're –"

"Yeah. I am. Or was."

"No…. And Yuki? That precious girlfriend of yours? What about her?"

He sighed. "She doesn't know yet."

"Are you ever going to tell her, Kyo? Or are you just going to –"

"I haven't decided yet. It's…I don't want to hurt either one of them."

"That's not fair to them, Kyo."

"I know." He shoved his empty soda can aside and deposited his unfinished sandwich next to it. Looked at the sky above him, at the bright beacon that was the sun. Turned his attention back down to Aoi. "Mom said the same thing. Said I needed to make a choice."

"You do."

"I know. It's just…"

"So Uncle Saisyu found out and then? What happened?"

"Couldn't leave the house. He tried to take my phone. My keys. Said he was disappointed in me. You know what he's like when he's disappointed."

"So he grounded you right there and then? What about Yagami?"

"That's why I called you. I need to see him, Aoi. Dad did something terrible to him. I can't just…leave him by himself. He's…"

"So we're going against what we told your father."

"Yes. Will that be a problem?"

His cousin pursed her lips, as if making a decision and then straightened her back, fixing him with a determined gaze. "Good thing you came to me, Kyo. You're not the only one hiding a secret."

"Huh?" That was news to him. "Don't tell me you have a –"

Aoi laughed. "It's nothing like that. But promise me you won't tell anyone else in the clan. Not even your mom."

"What's this about, Aoi? What could you possibly –"

"This." A sudden rush of heat and Kyo blinked, startled. The flame in his cousin's hand wasn't orange. It was _purple_. Just like Iori's. But how? "It should look familiar to you."

"But…he was born into the line. How did you –"

"I got mad at Souji one time. You know what I'm like when I'm mad."

"But how did you get it?"

"I ran into a woman named Shermie. She –"

"What?" He stared at Aoi, disbelieving what he'd just heard. "You mean…French woman, bangs in front of face…"

"Yeah. I asked her and she gave it to me. I've had it since that day."

"Aoi…" He paused, picking his next words with care. He was in no position to judge her but Orochi-tainted flames did come with its drawbacks and he wanted to make sure she knew that. "When she gave it to you, did she explain anything?"

"No."

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You know those flames come with a curse. How it affects the Yagami clan."

"I'm still a Kusanagi, cousin. Me having this doesn't change anything."

"You realize Yagami deals with the Riot of Blood, right? It's especially bad when Orochi shows up."

"Oh? Have you seen it while you've been with him?"

"No, but I've seen him when Orochi mocks him for being with me. He doesn't like it."

"I'm sure he doesn't." His cousin extinguished the violet flames in her hand – the color changing back to orange as it vanished – and picked up her soda, downing the rest of the contents. Aoi pointed at his sandwich. "Finish it or toss it, Kyo. Since we're talking about Yagami now, let's cut to the chase. You want to see him today. That's why you asked for my help."

"And your transport. You have a bike."

"Don't you usually have one?"

"I tend to take the train there."

"Why the train?" Aoi looked quizzically at him. "Wouldn't your bike be faster?"

"It can also be found. I'd prefer not to leave my bike right where people can see it."

"Ah."

"Besides, with you, Dad didn't send Uncle Hajime along. I couldn't do it just by myself."

"You're serious about this, aren't you, Kyo? This isn't just some fling with Yagami. You really do care about him."

"Yeah."

"I think you've already decided. You're just hesitant to call it for what it is."

"Which is?"

"You love him. Perhaps more than your girlfriend."

"Aoi, I…"

"Your sandwich, Kyo. Finish it. If you're doing this, we need to go soon."

* * *

Via motorcycle, the distance to Iori's apartment wasn't far. Kyo watched as they sped past certain landmarks, stopped at a few traffic lights, and then bypassed the subway station close to Iori's place. The one thing he missed was the leisurely pleasure he took in observing the surroundings while on the train. Osaka, while a city, still had a different feel depending if he was on foot, in a car, on a train, or on his bike. Considering Yagami lived half an hour away via train distance, their neighborhoods were dissimilar and thus, interesting.

Still, he recognized the apartment complex the moment Aoi swung onto the road. His cousin gunned the bike, zipping them down the street and into the parking lot, which was mostly empty around this time of day. He looked at the time on his phone. Two thirty-five in the afternoon. This was usually Yagami's time – time Kyo didn't intrude on unless necessary.

He pocketed his phone and gazed upward towards Yagami's door.

Today was necessary. He hadn't seen the man for over a month and…

"Should I wait here or do you want me to come up with you?"

He considered. Aoi staying outside would give him and Iori some privacy. However, if she stayed outside and someone happened to notice her and knew her…

This was already a big risk he was taking. He didn't want Iori's death on his hands because he got careless. Even without guardians hounding his steps, Kyo didn't want to take chances. Too much rode on this one moment between his deliberate deceit towards his father, Aoi's lies and their joint machination, and the fabrication they needed to do afterwards.

Because they couldn't just go home after coming here. It'd be too…

Aoi knew how he worked. How this would affect him.

And so…

"If he's here, I want to introduce you to him anyway. He might be able to give you some advice about those flames."

"Ah, I see." Aoi tilted her head in his direction. "Let's go up, then."

Fingering the spare key in his pocket, Kyo went up the stairs, retreading ground he'd been on before. He knew this place rather well – could still remember the family that lived next door before moving out two weeks after he and Yagami started sleeping together. The father was being sent overseas by his company, requiring an immediate change of residence. The quiet and shy college student that moved in kept to his papers, textbooks, and the occasional video game, which suited them just fine.

He knew the stairs that creaked and the ones that didn't. The overflowing mailbox with its suspiciously absent occupant. Iori had speculated the guy was either a criminal or just lazy; Kyo always believed it was the latter. They'd never made any bets on it, though. The girl who lived three doors down who always looked at Yagami with wistful eyes, even though he was taken. A usual run-of-the-mill office girl searching for better, possibly a husband and a way out of corporate life. It made him appreciate his musical career more, Iori once said to him. He couldn't imagine Yagami going corporate – Iori didn't live based on society's imposed rules.

Yet, his father had imposed on Yagami's life and…

It was why he was here now, wasn't it? To try to remove some of the pain inflicted because of that imposition. To see where they stood now with each other.

He removed the key from his pocket and slid it into the lock of Yagami's apartment door. Turned it and felt the mechanisms shift and click.

Kyo opened the door, stepped in quietly – Aoi following – and removed his shoes. Heard Aoi close the door behind her, latching it shut. While his cousin lingered behind, having removed her helmet and shoes out of courtesy, he advanced past the entranceway. As he did, his eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings. He frowned. Iori didn't usually leave the lights off or low, unless he was asleep. The afternoon light coming through the back window was muted and weak, barely illuminating the interior.

A few steps more and he glimpsed a sleeping figure on the couch.

Kyo walked closer. Stopped. Stared and felt his heart breaking.

Even in the dim light, it was evident Iori Yagami had changed – was no longer the same man he knew two months back. The man on the couch was frail, borderline emaciated, and slept fretfully, tossing and turning while murmuring silent words. Kyo knelt down next to Iori, wanting to run his hand over the other's hollowing cheek, the sharp edge of bone protruding under pale skin, and over dry and cracked lips. There were dark shadows beneath the other's eyes, bruising his sickly complexion. Benimaru had said he looked bad but that was an understatement.

Iori looked one foot in the grave. That was what Yagami had said, hadn't he? That he didn't have long to live?

"Yagami," he said, keeping his voice to a quiet whisper. "Yagami, it's Kyo." The redhead turned, whimpering and Kyo reached out, embraced him and held him close. "I'm here, Yagami. Whatever nightmares you're having, I'm here."

The other man's breathing was frantic, erratic, and strained. It stank and was hot against his shirt. Kyo held on, unwilling to let go and rocked the other man against his chest, whispering nonsense. As he did so, he cast his glance around the living room and noticed the guitar on its stand beside the couch. There was also a small table with food half-eaten, the convenience store bag lying next to it. Squinting, he glimpsed a cylindrical object as well. It looked like a…

Turning his attention back to Iori, he listened to the other man's breathing.

Was this Iori's life now? Restless sleep, unfinished meals, and medication close at hand? Was this what he meant by his life was just survival now?

"Yagami…"

His shirt was damp where Iori's head rested against his chest. The other man was burning up, heat so intense that Kyo felt it warm him through his clothes. Sweat rolled down the side of Iori's face, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Greasy strands of hair lay plastered against his temples, unkempt and tangled. The man mumbled something indecipherable under his breath and turned his head further in, burying his face against his shirt. Kyo heard him whimper again, a faint whine that did nothing to ease the growing pain in his heart.

He continued to hold him until the other's breathing quieted down and the man settled against him, no longer in the throes of nightmare. Iori's eyes moved beneath his eyelids; the redhead sighed, relaxing into a deeper sleep. Kyo laid him back down on the couch, smoothing his hair aside with a gentle motion. He sat back on his heels, gazing upon the man who once was his rival and enemy and now was neither.

Back then, he couldn't have cared less if Iori Yagami died.

Now, Iori Yagami was edging close to death and Kyo couldn't stand seeing it.

It was already agonizing seeing him this way, knowing his father was responsible for it. That in the end, it was a Kusanagi anyway who dispatched one of the Yagami. The old tired cycle continuing, unending in its hatred and long-held strife.

Behind him, Aoi padded in, footfalls soft against the wooden floor.

"We can't stay long, Kyo. It'll look suspicious if we can't account for our time."

"I know," he said, not taking his eyes off Iori. "It's just…he's sleeping and…"

"That's him?"

"That's him." He reached out, brushing off some errant strands of hair close to Iori's eyes. The other man stirred but didn't awaken. "He wasn't always like this, you know."

"Uncle Saisyu did this to him?"

"Yeah." His tone was bitter. "He was one of the best before. A terror in the arena."

"I think his fighting days are over, Kyo."

"He's convinced he's dying. Doesn't think he has a chance." Kyo pulled his hand back, letting it fall to his side. "I thought…perhaps…but looking at him now…"

"You should talk to him."

"But he's –"

"Kyo," his cousin said, tone serious enough for him to turn and look up at her. "If he realizes later that you were here and he missed you because he was sleeping…"

He winced. He could only imagine how Iori would take it – how it would further demoralize the other man. As if he wasn't good enough to know he'd been here – that he hadn't awakened him to even say "Hi". With how vulnerable Iori was – mentally and physically – the last thing he needed to do was push him over the edge. Yagami was in a fragile state and it'd be too easy for him to misinterpret the simple act of just letting him sleep. He could almost hear Iori's internal monologue, since he'd heard similar during the call.

He couldn't just up and leave. Not without at least letting Iori know he was here.

"I'll leave you two alone. Call me if you need me."

With that, Aoi left the room. Kyo glanced at the window farther back behind the couch, watching as the light shifted, casting shadows from another angle. He looked down at Iori, at his face smoothed yet weary in sleep and sighed. Reached out again and ran his hand along the other's wasting cheek, feeling the hard bone beneath the thinning skin. Iori's skin was rough, dry and hot to the touch and all Kyo could think of was the lost days. Of Iori being aware of his condition and what it meant in the end.

He didn't want to consider it just yet. It was too defeatist. It was…it was too soon.

"Yagami," he said gently but putting some volume and strength behind his voice. "Yagami, wake up."

The man on the couch twisted, a slight sound escaping from parted lips.

"Yagami…" Kyo dropped his hand to Iori's shoulder, giving him a light shake. "I'm here, Yagami. Want to talk to you."

Some murmuring. Was Iori talking in his sleep?

Kyo shook him again. The other man batted at his arm, revealing the shine of metal. Kyo recognized the chrome. He also recognized the gleam of dark gunmetal.

_He's wearing the ring?_

Of all things to surprise him, he hadn't expected that. He'd thought the ring kept in storage, forever a precious memento and nothing more. He certainly hadn't expected to find Iori wearing it. Iori's fingers were thinner – another sign of his rapid deterioration – and Kyo closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shook him again. Harder. Less gently.

The redhead opened bleary eyes, stared at him, and Kyo realized the haze of sleep still settled over the other man.

"Yagami…"

The crimson-brown eyes focused, re-focused, and sharpened. Iori moved, trying to sit up. "Kyo?" There was a tone of disbelief, of fear, of uncertainty shading his voice. Hearing it made Kyo want to weep, but he wasn't here for that.

"I'm here, Yagami. Like I said I'd be."

"But…" A visible struggle – a question – warred in the other's face. "How? How did you –"

"I had help. I also have your spare key, remember?"

Iori paused in mid-motion, gazing at him. The other man hadn't reached out to him, yet. Kyo didn't know whether it was from fear or from the belief that he couldn't possibly be here. Maybe both. The questioning look passed from his face, only to be replaced by an expression of anxiety. "Is someone here? Who helped you, Kyo?"

Even now, even the way he was, Yagami was sharp, instincts on full alert.

"My cousin. Yagami," he said quickly, for Iori's anxiety shifted into the beginnings of full-on flight from his couch. "She helped me get here. She's not going to…"

"Can you trust her, Kyo? Won't she –"

"She won't. She has reasons of her own for not doing so. Yagami, if it's okay…"

"You want me to –"

"Yes. If that's okay with you."

Iori stared at him for a long moment, as if deciding to trust him on this particular matter. After a minute or two, the redhead sighed, dropping his shoulders and looking down at the floor. "Fine."

He turned towards the entranceway and called out. "Aoi!"

The brunette was soon in the living room, standing right next to him. "What is it, Kyo?"

"I know you've already seen him, but this is Iori Yagami. Yagami, this is my cousin, Aoi Kusanagi. Don't worry – she won't set you on fire."

Iori's fingers tensed as he said those words. Mulling over it, Kyo shelved the thought in his mind, waiting for the right time to ask. Yagami had looked up and was studying his cousin in his customary way, eyes narrowed. Tension rolled off Iori; beside him, Aoi studied his lover, her gaze cool and unreadable.

"Looks nothing like you."

"She's my cousin, Yagami. Not my sister."

"So why do you want me to talk to her again?"

He shifted, positioning himself so that he could see Aoi. "If it's not a problem…"

"Sure." A flicker of flame – orange first – changing to purple. "Kyo wanted me to talk to you about this. You're the expert on it, right?"

In the violet light reflected, Kyo saw Iori's eyes widen in shock. "How did you…why do you have that?"

"A woman named Shermie gave them to –"

"Dammit! That _Shermie_, Kyo?"

"One and the same. Yeah, I know." He glanced from his lover to his cousin. "Shermie's bad news, so…if he goes off the chain, Aoi, don't…"

"Why'd she give it to you?"

"Because I asked her for it."

"You asked her for it?" If there was one thing about Iori, he never failed to speak his mind. "Why'd you do that? Don't you know what that means? What it does?"

"I know it comes with a curse but it shouldn't affect –"

"Of course it does! Of course it will!" Iori was shaking; Kyo put his hand over his, feeling the other tremble. "Just because you're not me doesn't mean…Kyo and I…we fought Orochi. We sealed him away. I still hear the damn bastard to this day, you know that? Has he started talking to you, yet?"

Aoi had gone pale. The violet flame crackled in her palm.

"If he hasn't, he soon will. You'll hear his voice in your head. Did Kyo tell you what else comes with that?"

"He said something about the Riot of Blood."

An awful laugh burst from Iori; Kyo felt trembling turn to full shudder. "You make it sound so easy, girl. As if it's just something you can brush aside. You can't."

"Yagami…"

"When it hits you, you better hope you're somewhere else. By yourself. Away from people you know. Ever killed before? Ever had blood on your hands? No? You'll kill, girl. Kill and kill and keep killing. Doesn't matter who."

"Yagami…"

"I didn't have a choice. I was born into the clan. But you…"

"Our clan's not perfect, either. Kyo can –"

"Kyo's not foolish enough to ask for the one thing that condemned me to this!" Rigid silence fell. "My inhaler, Kyo. It's on the table."

The flame in Aoi's hand snuffed out. His cousin was shaken, the blood only now returning to her face. Kyo passed the inhaler over to Iori, glancing between him and Aoi. He'd never seen her like this before. Then again, with Iori's blunt tirade, it was warranted. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Yagami taking his medication, breathing in and out slowly afterwards. While he knew Yagami preferred to self-medicate, it had only extended to the occasional painkiller after a grueling fight. He'd never needed it before just to breathe. Just to live.

It hurt Kyo to see him depending on it – an obvious weakness.

Yagami put the inhaler aside, coughed, and redirected his gaze back to his cousin. His voice was low, yet hard. "Listen, girl. Don't use those flames."

"But –"

"There's nothing you can do about it now, but don't use them. Keep them hidden."

"Will that do anything? Like…"

"He'll still reach out for you. It's inevitable. But don't use them. I noticed you don't show pain. You've gotten that far, huh?"

Right. The Yagami clan was known for its high pain tolerance. Aoi hadn't even flinched when she brought forth the flames, so she must've practiced with them for some time. Yagami had spotted that right away, having had the flames all his life. He'd tried to warn his cousin but perhaps she needed to hear it from Iori firsthand. After all, he was just a Kusanagi like her. What did he know about the intricacies of those cursed flames?

"It does hurt…sometimes."

"That's part of the price you pay." A flat statement without any softness. "Even we had to learn how to master it." Iori turned to him, fatigue evident in the drawn lines of his face. His eyes seemed overly bright. "Kyo…can I talk to you?"

"That's why I'm here, Yagami."

"I'll be waiting by the door. Don't take too long, Kyo."

"I won't," he said, watching as his cousin turned and walked away, leaving them alone. "You didn't have to be so blunt, Yagami."

"She had everything I didn't and she…she threw it all away because…of what?"

"A bad decision, I know, but –"

"It'll stay with her all her life."

"That's why you're so mad."

"She squandered her life. If you'd done the same, I'd…" Across from him, Iori sighed, tangling his hands together. Metal gleamed for a brief second. "How are you, Kyo?"

"Should be asking you that."

A dry humorless laugh. "You don't have to. Like what you see?"

"Yagami…"

"Did you recognize me, Kyo? Or was it like I said?"

"I didn't realize…I hadn't known it'd gotten that bad."

"You should've seen me earlier. It was worse." There was a dark ironic tone in Iori's voice. "I frightened the girl at the convenience store today. The cashier. Probably thought she was looking at a ghost."

"Yagami…"

"I can't keep fighting this, Kyo. I don't think…I don't think I can win this."

"No. Don't say that. That's how you lose, Yagami. If you tell yourself that…"

"I couldn't sleep last night, Kyo. I couldn't keep anything down. Tell me how I'm gonna win this again?"

"I'm here, Yagami. You don't have to –"

"You won't be staying. You can't. I know." Iori stared past him, as if lost in thought. "But you're here. That's enough."

"Yagami?" There was something about how Iori said that that alerted him to the unspoken. Iori often did that.

"I don't think I'll see you again. After this."

It was as if a dagger had been plunged into him, bleeding him dry; Kyo blanched. "Why are you saying that? Of course I'll –"

"I'm sixty-two kilos now, Kyo."

Iori had stated that in a quiet tone, eerily calm and silence settled over them like a soft yet heavy weight, present but not suffocating. Kyo looked at him, at his too-bright eyes and flushed face, at his entwined hands and realized that Iori had prepared himself for this. It was why he was able to say that so calmly, so steadily. Iori had always known he'd die young, courtesy of his cursed lineage. To Iori, it was just a matter of time – it didn't matter how.

"Yagami…"

"You have more to your life than me, Kyo. I don't have much time left."

"But you're still fighting it. You're still –"

"For how long, Kyo? I can't keep this up. I…" The other man's voice cracked. "It'd be easier if I _could_ actually fight it."

"Yagami…"

"You should go home, Kyo. Maybe…"

"No. Don't say that." Kyo rose off his heels, reached out, and embraced the other man. "Don't tell me to go home, Yagami. Defeats the purpose if I do."

"But…"

"I've missed you, Yagami. Just got here. Not leaving you that fast."

"Kyo, you're an idiot sometimes, you know that?"

"We're both idiots, Yagami. We fell for each other. If that wasn't the dumbest thing in the world, I dunno what would be."

That got a dark chuckle from Iori, but Kyo sensed the shift before it happened. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm here." Before he finished saying the last word, Iori shuddered against him, tears dampening his shoulder. "It's okay." He held the other man, his hand behind the other's head even as the other grasped him, weeping in choked anguish. It broke his heart and caused him to wonder if Iori had done this before, alone as he was. Just thinking that shattered his heart anew.

He was glad he came. Iori didn't have to suffer this alone.

After some time, the other man quieted down and pulled away from him, eyes bloodshot. While Iori wiped his eyes dry with the back of his hand, Kyo tugged at his shirt, feeling wetness where Iori's tears had soaked through. It was warm outside. He didn't have to worry about telltale stains. "Yagami," he said, returning his focus back to the redhead, "do you need anything?"

"I have food."

"Anything else?"

"No." The other's voice was raspy and rough. "I won't need anything else."

He read the message behind that statement and fought to keep himself from breaking down. "I'll see you again, Yagami. I'll have Beni text you. It won't…it can't end this way."

"Ever the optimist, Kyo."

"I need to try, Yagami. One of us needs to."

Silence. Iori blinked and looked away. Kyo saw him fidgeting with the rings on his finger. The chrome one he always had and the one he'd given to him on his birthday just a couple months ago. It felt much longer than that.

"You wore it."

"You noticed." Iori's voice was pale, drained of energy. "It's the only thing I have from you."

"The pictures? The videos?"

"Couldn't look at them. They…" A distinct pause. "I didn't have you, Kyo. So…"

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do."

Another fall of silence. Iori blinked again; Kyo saw he was fighting off a second spate of tears. He waited for the redhead to gather himself, glancing off to give him a measure of dignity. He hadn't kept track of the time, but Aoi hadn't shown up to remind him, either. He looked towards the entranceway and saw her fiddling with her phone. She was giving them their time. He'd been right in going to his cousin – to entrusting her with this secret. She might've made a mistake in her life, asking for Orochi-tainted flames, but that didn't preclude her from helping him, lending him an ear, or not judging him for who he loved.

"Kyo…"

At the sound of his name, Kyo turned back to face Iori, whose demeanor was serious. "What is it, Yagami?"

"If you want to meet up a second time, we need to do it soon. Before…"

Before his time ended. Kyo didn't like thinking about it. He was the optimist. Iori was the realist. "Where do you want to be?"

"Somewhere public. Maybe a park. Halfway."

"Makes sense. Will you be able to –"

"I'll try." A smile that didn't reach Iori's eyes. "Don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice, Yagami."

"You came to find me. Can't leave you hanging."

"Yagami…"

"Don't have much left in my life, Kyo. Just you. My music…not even much of that."

"What do you mean?"

"Lost my job. Forgot to let the band know. Don't even have that now."

"What?" Of all things, he hadn't expected Iori to lose his music. Was his career gone? Couldn't he just…no, he couldn't. Not in his condition. "Were you having nightmares earlier, Yagami? Before I woke you up?"

Iori flinched, a small movement that would've been imperceptible if Kyo hadn't been watching him. "You saw that?"

"I did."

Silence.

"Yagami…I…"

"I was burned alive in my dreams, Kyo. There wasn't anything left after."

Shit. Was that why he… "Why'd you dream that?"

"It's what I was told. I…" The other man made a small noise, looked down at his hands, and curled his fingers inwards. "It's what I was threatened with."

It only took a split second for Kyo to grasp Iori's meaning and when he did, he was furious. "Did my dad say that? To you?"

"He did. He…" Iori swallowed. "I should be dead by now, Kyo. Just for…"

For talking to him. For being in contact with him. "That's bullshit. He can't just –"

"He did."

"He's not going to kill you, Yagami. No one is and no one will."

"If my old man was alive, he'd…" This time, Iori gazed up at him. "He'd have killed me, too."

"Yagami…"

"Our fathers aren't too dissimilar, are they? All for the clan."

"Yagami…my uncle told me a story. More like sordid clan history. One of my ancestors tried to elope with one of yours."

"Didn't end well, did it?"

"No. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

"What makes you think it'd turn out any different?" An incredulous expression crossed Iori's face. "I'm dying, Kyo. Even if you manage to make it work, you'll be throwing everything away for a dead man. It's…"

"You're not dead, yet."

"And your girlfriend? Your rank? What about those?"

"Yagami…"

"You shouldn't choose me over those, Kyo. Those will last. I won't."

"Even so. I…" Kyo took a deep breath. Was he making his choice here? Despite knowing what Yagami said was true? All of it? "I'm not leaving you to fight this alone."

"You'll be going against your clan, Kyo."

"Haven't you? By loving me?"

Iori stared at him. Kyo gazed back, watching as the realization took subtle form behind the other's eyes, in the shifting of muscles in his face. "I'm the only one left, Kyo. There's no clan to go against."

"The tenets of it, then. Your clan has always sworn to be my clan's enemy. That's not true anymore, is it?"

"You'll be risking so much more."

"So did you. You have. You can't be the only one risking it all, Yagami."

"Kyo…"

"I can't stay much longer today, but…" He leaned in close, running his hand along the side of Iori's face. The redhead shivered at his touch, closing his eyes. "I'll find a way to make it work, Yagami. Please try…we'll find a way through."

Silence.

He dropped his hand, leaned forward, and kissed Iori. The other man reciprocated – desperation, need, and pain communicated all in one single action. He'd never known or sensed desperation and pain from Iori before when they were together; yet another aspect irrevocably changed because of his father. It saddened him to know Yagami carried these within him now, and probably would for however long he lived.

Iori pulled back and away first, settling deeper into the couch. "You should go, Kyo. Before you can't." There was a bruised look in his eyes, matching the dark shadows beneath them. "Your lip might be swollen."

A warning. If he went home later still having that…

"I'll be careful, Yagami."

"You sure about this, Kyo?"

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"'Yes' would've sufficed."

"Yeah but you probably wouldn't have believed me."

The other man smiled, but yet again, it didn't spread to his eyes. It was the saddest smile Kyo had seen from Iori; his heart clenched. "Go, Kyo."

Kyo mustered his own smile – trying to impart some strength and morale to his lover – and turned, heading towards the entranceway. As he did, he felt Iori's gaze on his back – a silent and heavy presence.

* * *

"I was listening to you guys and something interested me."

"Huh? What?" His cousin had taken them back downtown and they were now sitting in their own private room in a restaurant, partaking of the opening cups of _sake_. He wasn't going to drink too much, in case he did something stupid or catastrophic later. What he was waiting for was the food.

"You're close, but you kept calling him by his surname."

"Oh, that?" He glanced down at his _sake_ cup, seeing his reflection in the clear liquor. "We're so used to it that we decided to stick with it. The first time I called him by his given name, he didn't like it."

"Interesting."

"The given name would've been too risky. It'd have given away our relationship immediately. It was better to keep to what was familiar."

"So even though you're intimate with each other…"

"We discovered it didn't really matter in the end. It was how I said it."

Aoi downed her cup, placed it on the table, and looked at him. There was a faint flush on her cheeks. "He's really something, isn't he?"

"Hope he didn't offend you. He means well."

"If he does, he has a way of saying it." His cousin extended her arms upwards, stretching. "But I see why you love him. He suits you."

"You could tell that just from –"

"Yeah. I think whatever you had before just turned into something stronger. Mightn't be aggressive anymore but the bond's there."

"Good thing we didn't make it obvious in public."

"Well, you two aren't stupid. I'll give you that." As he watched, his cousin pushed her hair back, picked up the _sake_ bottle, and tipped some liquor into his cup. "Drink up, Kyo. I think you need it."

He picked up the cup, gazed at the contents, and downed it. It burned through him, soothing and warm. He put the cup down and gazed at the ceiling.

The aftertaste in his mouth was bitter.

* * *

**Comments**: So yeah, huge chapter. It only took nineteen chapters before they got to meet in person again, so definitely a momentous event in this fic. Also, one of the single longest conversations I've ever written, which made for quite a challenge.

So, a few notes here:

(1) 62 kilograms is roughly 136 lbs. (in terms of weight). In Chapter 15, Iori was 67 kilograms (148 lbs.). So, he's lost yet again a significant amount of weight. I think if he hits down to about 120 lbs. or so, he's pretty much on death's door.

(2) Aoi Kusanagi and her backstory comes from KoF: Kyo (the game, not the manga). In the game, Kyo does introduce his cousin to Iori, also because she shows him that she is indeed a bearer of purple flames. In this fic, this is her first introduction to Iori and I think my Iori is way harsher with her than he was in the game (of which, game and manga are semi-canon).

(3) So the deal with surnames and given names in Japan is that surnames are more polite and formal. Of course, Kyo doesn't use the honorific _–san_ with Iori, considering their hostile history. Given names can only be used if the person is family, a close friend, or your boyfriend or girlfriend (basically intimate). This is why Kyo and Iori in my fic don't ever change how Kyo addresses him. Not only would it give away a huge change in their relationship status to anyone who heard them, but Iori's just so familiar with it that he doesn't want it to change.

(4) The thing about the _sake_ tasting bitter comes from some stuff I gleaned from reading Japanese novels (translated into English) and also from anime like Rurouni Kenshin. If your mood is good and the situation is fine, then the _sake_ should taste good. However, if you're conflicted or the situation isn't good, then there's a belief that your _sake_ will taste off. Kenshin in the 'Trust and Betrayal' OVAs experiences this, and is told by his superior that it's due to his lifestyle as an assassin. In Kyo's case, the situation is very much bittersweet and not yet resolved.


	21. Chapter 21 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 21~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

The cursor on his phone blinked, a continual motion within his periphery; Iori stared away from it, gazing instead towards the entranceway and door. Just this afternoon, Kyo surprised him with an unannounced visit and the entanglement of emotions hitting all at once threatened to unmoor him. The unexpected appearance of Kyo's cousin, Aoi Kusanagi and her revelation hadn't helped. Caught between shock, bewilderment, despair, brief moments of rage, and resignation, he hadn't noticed the flickers of relief until hours after Kyo left.

His apartment was empty without Kyo's presence. Hollow.

He'd missed him but he hadn't reckoned on their brief reunion casting his feelings into stark and unmistakable terms. His life was once isolated and alone by choice – a decided solitude – but Kyo changed all that. He'd changed his schedule to accommodate them both and hadn't realized until after the incident how much of an impact it'd made. How Kyo's absence was a raw wound – how much it hurt to go through those mornings and evenings and not have him here. It wasn't the same now, after.

If he could've foreseen his initial obsession with Kyo leading into this…

Iori stood, phone in hand. Took a few uneven steps forward.

He wouldn't change a damn thing. He'd gained something valuable and it was the antithesis of how the Yagami clan operated. Of their tenets, of how they raised their children, and of the brutal training he and all previous heirs underwent. For the Yagami clan scorned weakness and what greater weakness than love?

Love was a vulnerability. Love made people stupid. Love undermined resolve.

That was what he was taught, or made to understand growing up under his father's authority. His birth wasn't out of love or some youthful whim – he was born to carry on the line, to continue the never-ending war with the Kusanagi clan. Kyo mentioned during their third month together that if his cousin Souji Kusanagi had remained heir, Iori would've been saying a very different name. He'd stated back that Souji didn't quite have the same vibe as the name Kyo; Kyo, for once, agreed. Still, it wouldn't have changed things. He would've gone against Souji Kusanagi, then, and continued the strife.

But would he be in this situation now? Would he have learned to love? Would he have suffered for it? Would that have happened with Souji Kusanagi, or was it only possible with Kyo?

He kept taking steps until he reached the entranceway. He didn't bother putting on his shoes. Opening the door, Iori exited the apartment. A couple more steps brought him against the railing, which he leaned on for support. Inhaling, he took in the crisp night air, feeling more like himself tonight than he had for the past few days. There were stars and even a sliver of moon in the sky, but poetic niceties weren't for him today.

In the six months they'd been together, he'd never told Kyo he loved him.

Love wasn't something he ever knew, or ever acknowledged if he had known it before. He'd been too young to comprehend it and without a mother, had only known the careful care of his nursemaids and guardians. Since they, too, reinforced the Yagami clan's edicts, he was never taught this vulnerability called love. His father, intent on molding him into the deadliest weapon aimed at the Kusanagi clan, had no time for it and demonstrated nothing like it.

To Iori, his childhood and early adolescence was a memory of loneliness, scathing criticism, and constant brutality. The only genuine gentleness he received was from the cats roaming the estate's grounds. He'd learned to care for them – to feed them and take them in during storms – but having been withheld love, knew nothing beyond that.

So when Kyo called his bluff on his empty remarks about killing him, Iori had been baffled.

Of course he was going to kill Kyo Kusanagi. That was the entire meaning of his life, wasn't it?

Except, something had changed and he wasn't certain when it did.

Kyo had been the one to see it first. Kyo had also been the one to point it out to him. He'd been confused – when had it changed? – and compounding his newfound feelings was the realization that it wasn't one-sided. It'd thrown him off balance, his life readjusting and Kyo hadn't left him alone to struggle with an emotion he'd never known before. Their first month before they became comfortable enough to call an actual start to their relationship was about discovering why it happened.

For Iori, it was straightforward once Kyo helped him unravel his obsession. It'd left him even more confounded, but Kyo had explained it was like that sometimes. As for Kyo, Iori never found out why he reciprocated. He wasn't even sure if Kyo knew why. But the other man had raised the issue, which wasn't necessary unless…unless Kyo felt the same?

By their fourth month, Iori no longer questioned where Kyo stood.

Kyo told him. Told him he loved him. Told him he was glad their feud was over.

Iori hadn't been able to say the same words back, despite having identical feelings. It just…he wasn't one to say things like that. Somehow, Kyo knew. Kyo never asked him to say the words; instead, smiled, as if understanding why and took at face value his actions. For Iori was all about actions and as their relationship deepened, it was apparent to them both where he stood.

Iori took another careful breath, filling his lungs with clean cool air. Outside, it was more comfortable and although he continued sweating, the light breeze eased his discomfort. Insects chirped in companionable harmony and in the distance, he heard nighttime traffic. The parking lot was somewhat full – there were still salarymen working late hours or having corporate drinking parties – and here and there were cars and motorcycles. Seeing the motorcycles reminded him of Kyo and his absence was a wound.

Kyo had gotten Aoi Kusanagi's help – the girl was also a biker – and it stood to reason why Kyo couldn't stay the night. It was too risky and if Saisyu Kusanagi and Kyo's uncle Hajime found out…

There wouldn't be a second chance. Not for him. Not for Kyo.

Aoi Kusanagi would also be in danger and…

Kyo wouldn't do that to his cousin. Iori understood. He'd been the one to push him away, after all. He'd done so, denying himself his heart's yearning. If Kyo stayed any longer…if Kyo kissed him any longer…

Their emotions ran strong. Their feelings for each other ran high. If he hadn't told Kyo to go, Kyo would never leave. Someone had to look out for Kyo, and that'd be him. He didn't have long to live and tying Kyo down to his fate was unfair. He still believed this despite Kyo making his choice earlier this afternoon. Kyo was rash; Kyo was optimistic; Kyo was…. Kyo loved him and was ready to oppose his own clan because of the injustice. Because he wanted to succeed whereas one of his ancestors failed.

Iori didn't see what difference it'd make but Kyo had never been one to give up.

He looked down at the phone in his hand. At the blinking cursor in the text box.

His struggle against his decline was futile. He was bound to lose. It wasn't a battle he was meant to win. He'd come to terms with it – had told Kyo the same. Wanted him to be ready when it happened.

Kyo had told him he wasn't dead, yet.

He was going to die but the fight wasn't over. If Kyo wasn't quitting, then…

Iori tapped the screen, starting to fill the once blank text box with characters.

If Kyo wasn't quitting, then neither should he. They'd been of the same mindset as former rivals; as lovers, this mindset was the only anchor he had and the only thing at this point in his life to pull him through this difficult time. If he lost it...if he gave up…

Wouldn't it be better to just lie down and die, then?

He finished typing out his message.

Kyo had mentioned speaking to Benimaru Nikaido about scheduling their public meeting. That wasn't necessary. Iori wasn't going to wait this time for Nikaido to initiate. It wasn't a bold move but at least he wasn't sitting and waiting around. He was tired of doing that – of watching the world go by while he was in standstill.

He read the message once, made a slight correction, and hit "Send".

_**Nikaido, there's a park fifteen minutes from my place. You and Kyo know which one. If you're able, arrange for Kyo to meet you and Daimon there. This Saturday around noon. Can't do anything after that. Tell Kyo not to be an idiot. Yagami.**_

It was a weight off his shoulders.

He'd see Kyo again before dying. Before his world came to an end.

No, the fight wasn't over. Not yet. Not while he was still able to stand. Still able to breathe. But an ending was coming and he wasn't foolish enough to believe he'd survive past it. Iori pocketed his phone, gripped the railing with both hands and looked at the warm and welcoming lights of the neighboring apartment complexes and buildings across and beyond where he stood. The sliver of moon disappeared behind some clouds, leaving only stars.

It was colder now. He still burned within, fire in his veins and heat in his lungs.

He loved Kyo.

He never could tell him that, though. Would never be able to, now.


	22. Chapter 22 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 22~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"Yuki, this is Kyo. I need to talk to you. Please give me a call when you have time."

Kyo left the message, disconnected, pocketed his phone, and sat down on his bed. Yuki was at work and therefore was unable to respond, let alone hold a conversation. Kyo never expected to have the upcoming discussion over the phone anyway. Only a coward hid behind the line and device; he wasn't that, no matter how difficult breaking the news to her would be. Benimaru had stressed doing right by her and Kyo knew he owed her that much and more. The only way to do this properly was to tell it to her in person, face to face.

It was going to be hard. She was going to be upset. He dreaded it but it was his responsibility. He was the one who wronged her, after all.

Aoi dropped him home yesterday after they finished eating – giving him enough _sake_ to relax but not make him drunk – and Kyo spent the rest of the evening in his room. He needed time to think, to process what he'd seen and heard while at Iori's place. Not only had he come to a decision while there – he'd left Iori yesterday; yet, intended on returning and staying for good – but also needed space to grapple with the reality that faced him.

Iori was sixty-two kilos and unable to maintain weight. At this rate…

The other fighter didn't have much time left, as Iori had stated. If time was generous with him, maybe a little over a week. If his situation continued to deteriorate, then a week or less. Even if he continued fighting it – Iori sounded on the verge of giving up – it wouldn't prolong his life by many days. Kyo wondered if his permanent presence would help but realized Iori already considered himself past the point of no return. With that mentality – the stark reality of Iori's emaciated appearance in mind – there was no going back, no rewinding of the clock.

Iori's instincts were rarely wrong, especially when it came to himself.

Kyo wished it wasn't so, but he wasn't the other man.

No wonder Iori told him to go back. To return to his clan, to what awaited him as heir. When Iori died – Kyo shied from the thought – their joined future would end. Iori had nothing to offer him past that, and the other man knew it. But for Kyo, if he bowed his head and acquiesced to his clan, he had his future laid out before him. Yuki as his wife, the next generation of Kusanagi shortly after, and his ascension as the head patriarch once his father stepped down.

Only…he'd decided while talking to Iori and Kyo wasn't looking back.

Sure, that was one of his possible futures. The easy way. The way everyone expected. But it didn't have to be his only future. With as little time they had left, they could still live through it together. Once they reunited for good, Kyo was going to be by his side until the end. Yagami wasn't going to suffer alone and should he die, he wasn't going to die unloved and forgotten. After…well, after was something Kyo needed to consider once they crossed that fateful bridge.

His third possible future. After.

That, however, was for later. Way later.

For now, his current dilemma was Yuki. Telling her the news, knowing it'd break her heart.

_You should've told her from the start._

But if he had, he wouldn't have been circumspect about his and Iori's relationship. Keeping it secret was a critical requirement they'd both agreed on, guessing as to possible consequences if the news got out. None of them, though, had expected the fallout to be this dire or potentially fatal. He certainly hadn't expected his father to incapacitate Yagami to the brink of death. He also hadn't expected his freedoms to be curtailed with guardians hovering as though he was an unruly child. The most Iori and he expected was the ripple effect of their sundered rivalry affecting their official standing as fighters, the possibility of Kyo being disowned by his clan, and the disapproval of the general public which still frowned upon same sex relationships such as theirs. It was the reason why Yagami hadn't worn the ring (until now) and the reason why Kyo kept his schedule and thoughts to himself.

Now, with what they both faced, Kyo knew it was time to tell Yuki the truth.

He wasn't expecting forgiveness. None at all.

_Guess I can forget about that date coming up._

There was no way in hell Yuki would want to attend afterwards. He couldn't blame her if that turned out to be the case – finding out she was relegated to second place would be a tremendous blow – since it'd feel like a sham. He wasn't going to cancel the tickets, though. Not yet. Not until after they talked.

If Yuki left his life, then…

The future his father wanted for him was over. There'd be no marriage talks and plans or future heirs in the Kusanagi line – at least none linked with Yuki's family. Kyo could only imagine how outraged his father would be, but as he told Uncle Hajime, he made his own choices. He'd have to live with those choices. He was willing to, since he knew what was at stake.

Iori's life and the little of it that remained.

His promise to Yagami – one he would not break.

His own future, trapped behind walls and familial expectations.

_You've made your choice, Kyo. Now see it through._

He would, no matter how painful it'd be, seeing Yuki's happiness crumble. He would, even as his heart broke telling her the actuality of his circumstances. He would, because he wasn't the kind of person to double back and second-guess a decision he'd made.

He'd made his choice and he was going to follow through with it.

_Wait for me, Yagami. Don't let go yet._


	23. Chapter 23 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 23~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

It was done. Iori slid the sealed envelope containing his rent payment into the box outside his apartment, stepped back inside, closed and latched the door shut and leaned against the wall. Closing his eyes, he tried emptying his mind but the thoughts kept coming, relentless and unending. When he began trembling, it took all his willpower and self-control not to break down. He found himself on the floor of the entranceway, curled up and unable to stem the flow of anguish and despair that overcame him.

All his debts were settled. There was nothing pending, nothing else expected. The only action he hadn't taken was to write and finalize a will. That had felt too absolute even for him and it wasn't as if he had next-of-kin to leave his assets to. The only other person would be Kyo, but that'd do him more harm than good. If the Kusanagi clan violently disagreed with his relationship with Kyo, Kyo receiving anything from him would be seen as scandalous.

Destroying Kyo's reputation had never been one of his goals. Not when they were rivals, and certainly not now as lovers. A well-meaning gesture from him would be seen in a different light and Iori wasn't going to leave this world with his final action ruining Kyo. Saisyu Kusanagi already placed bars around Kyo; he need not reinforce them, condemning Kyo to an undeserved fate. He already knew his end – it would come and soon – but Kyo still had much to live for, and Iori wasn't so selfish that he'd drag him down with him.

Then why did it hurt so much, knowing this?

Everything was done. Everything but…

He swallowed, the lump in his throat like a stone lodged there.

All that was left to do was fight a futile battle. Fight, knowing he'd lose. Lose and die. That was all now, wasn't it? Just waiting for the final hour?

Nikaido had yet to get back to him. He'd see Kyo one last time – couldn't ask for more, really – and then come home and wait. Kyo said he wouldn't fight this alone, but Kyo wouldn't be back. It was too risky to chance for a second visit and Iori didn't hold his hopes high for any future reunion. He'd had six months. He shouldn't wish for anything beyond that. He wasn't going to get anything beyond that.

He breathed in and out slowly. Tears burned behind his eyes; he refused their release.

All that was left was death. Would it hurt this much if it'd been the blood curse?

His old man had lingered for six additional months. Why was his father granted that time – time he'd never have? Hatred fed his old man, true, but…

He was pathetic. Weak. A shell of himself.

Iori pushed himself off the floor. Stood, unsteady on his feet.

His body ached. His joints were sore. His burns were healing – the second-degree ones – but the third-degree ones continued to pain and discomfort him. He no longer looked in the mirror, since his own face now frightened him. He didn't know how Kyo continued to love him like this; he couldn't hold himself in high regard anymore. Kyo was still a fighter in every sense of the word; he was not. All his skills were worthless without stamina – if he even showed himself now, he'd be the laughingstock in the fighting circuit. If he wasn't considered that, then he'd be an object of horror for all who saw him.

He wasn't sure which was worse.

Carefully, slowly, he made his way back to the couch. Along with the rent payment, he'd also informed in a short letter to the second hospital to discontinue the process for his burn treatment. It wasn't necessary. Not anymore. Another matter resolved – another loose end no longer hanging.

He'd been thorough. The only issue left would be after.

He had no surviving relatives. No immediate family. No friends. Only Kyo, but…

Even if there was a funeral service, no one would attend. Kyo wouldn't be allowed – his clan would see to that. Kagura might but the woman always had other pressing concerns and his insignificant life was nothing compared to hers. Nikaido? He doubted it. He'd alienated himself so well that his passing wouldn't even register for most of them. He was troublesome, a disturbance, a threat, a joke for those who didn't take him seriously. His death would be a relief, once the initial news stopped wreaking havoc in the tourney circles.

The tournaments would move on without him. The other contestants wouldn't even care.

Kyo would move on. He'd have to.

In the end, it would just be him alone. Him and death and the seconds ticking by.

He reached over to where his guitar was. On the front of the case, he'd left a brief note bequeathing the instrument to one of his previous bandmates. It'd find a new home and another owner who'd take good care of it. Possibly play it during their performances. If that occurred, then Iori could rest easy on the music front. It was, quite possibly, the easiest decision to make when settling his final affairs.

He played a few chords. His fingers hurt where the calluses had softened. At least he could still do this for now. Within a few days, he might not be able to. He just wanted some music – some music of his own – before the time came.

Saisyu had taken almost everything from him. Everything but the few notes coming from his guitar. The only things left he could claim as his own.

That, and the ring Kyo gifted him months ago, which reminded him…

He put the guitar down, removed the rings from his finger, and put them aside. Later, he'd find a sturdy chain and wear them around his neck. He didn't want to lose them. The chrome ring meant a lot to him from his teen years. He already knew the significance of the gunmetal one with its etched symbolism. It didn't need any further elaboration.

On the table with his medication were the remains of his meal. Food no longer gave him any pleasure. Eating was a chore and he barely tasted what he forced down. Hunger was a rare sensation – gnawing at his guts only if he didn't eat for a couple days – which wrecked his well-intentioned plan to eat consistently. Without enjoyment – without taste – the motivation to continue wasn't there. He'd eaten some chicken on skewers and a curry beef bun earlier, but remembering what they tasted like eluded him. It was, he considered, something he'd learned to live with.

Soon, he wouldn't have to worry. Soon, he wouldn't need to eat.

A week at best. A few days more, if he was considered worthy of receiving them.

Iori wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. Took a deep breath, feeling his chest strain. His sternum was still healing, but he'd be dead before then.

He glanced at his phone, which was also on the table.

The screen was dark. There was no text. No response from Nikaido.

He bent his head down, pressed his fingers to the strings, and continued playing.

Ignored the burning behind his eyes. Ignored what followed.

He continued playing, unseeing – the chords his only guide in a world he was fading in. He continued playing, the music a poor balm for his soul.

For it was not enough. Nothing would be enough.


	24. Chapter 24 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 24~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"Kyo – Yuki's here." The expression his mother gave him was one of concern and understanding. "Did you arrange for her to be here?"

"Yes." Rising from his chair, Kyo glanced at his desk – nothing important left behind – and pushed the chair inward with his foot. "I called her. We…there's something I need to tell her."

"Will it upset her?"

"It will."

Shizuka sighed. "Then your father will be upset. Your uncle as well, I think."

"Let them."

"So you've decided, then?"

"Yes."

A hint of compassion entered his mother's gaze. "So you chose him."

"I told him I wouldn't leave him. He's…he's not doing well."

"How so? In what way?"

"He's dying." Saying it in such a blunt manner forced him to face the brutal truth; Kyo couldn't see how to soften the harsh reality. "Dad did something to him. He's ill. Won't make it."

"What did your father do?" Sharpness in his mother's eyes – terrifying in its own right – and an edge in her mild voice. Kyo knew its effect on his father and sometimes on him when he misbehaved in the past. Shizuka Kusanagi was probably going to exchange words with Saisyu later. He had to curb that; otherwise, every gain they've had up to this point was going to be lost. If his father knew he discovered what happened to Iori, the secret was out.

Iori would die, then and in a bad way.

Not that this slow dying was much better, but…

"He's lost too much weight. Constantly burning up. Full sweat."

His mother frowned, a furrow between her brows. "Was he sick before?"

"No."

"Why do you suspect your father?"

"He's the only one who opposed us, once he found out. Can't be anyone else."

The crease between his mother's brows deepened. "Yuki's waiting for you, so we can't talk much longer but how much weight has Yagami lost?"

"Half his usual weight."

"He's sweating? Feverish? Unable to eat?"

"Yeah. Something like that. You know why, Mom?"

"I have my suspicions." The darkness in her expression didn't change. "I'll let Yuki know you'll be arriving soon."

"Mom," he said, reaching out to gently seize her kimono sleeve, "don't tell Dad about this. Yagami will…Dad will kill him if he knows. I'll…there's a better time to confront him."

"Are you…is something the matter, Kyo?"

"I'll let you know later."

His mother continued looking at him, but didn't press any further. "I'll let her know. Don't keep her waiting, Kyo."

"I won't."

* * *

When he stepped into their usual meeting spot, Yuki sat waiting for him, legs folded in the formal _seiza_ position. Moving across from her, he did the same, since the situation was serious and he meant to address it as such. Once he was ensconced, Yuki broke the silence. "You said you needed to speak to me, Kyo. Is something wrong?"

What she asked him last time. Kyo took a deep breath. There was no retreat.

"Yuki…I haven't…I haven't been truthful with you."

A frown similar to the one he'd seen on his mother's face crossed Yuki's. "What…what are you talking about, Kyo?"

"I…I know you've been faithful, but I…"

"Kyo?"

Why was it so hard to say despite his commitment to the choice he'd made? "I've been seeing someone else. Behind your back." He bowed from the waist, pressing his palms to the _tatami_ matting and keeping his forehead against the floor. "I'm sorry."

Silence. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

It was a full minute, perhaps two before Yuki spoke. "Why are you only telling me now, Kyo?"

He'd been afraid of that reaction. Had dreaded it, in fact. He deserved it, though.

"Yuki, I –"

"Who is it, Kyo? Some random girl on the street? One of your fans?"

If only. What he was about to drop on her was considerably worse. "Yuki…"

"Tell me, Kyo. Who is she?"

He swallowed. Found it difficult to speak. Finally did so, forcing the words from his mouth. "You know him."

Another silence. He swore this one ran longer, falling deeper like a well without end. When Yuki next spoke, her tone was glacial. "I know _him_?"

"You do. You've seen him before. Many times."

He dared to look up afterwards and by doing so, saw the moment it clicked for Yuki; she paled. "No. Kyo, you don't mean…"

He raised himself up, sitting back on his heels so that their gazes met. "Yes. It's Iori Yagami, Yuki."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "Why?"

"I –"

"Why, Kyo? You hate him. You fight with him all the time."

"I hated him," he said, emphasizing the change in tense like a fired bolt striking its target. Yuki stiffened, small shoulders rigid and if he touched her, Kyo was sure she'd be all ice and no softness. "We don't anymore."

"When did this start, Kyo?"

He couldn't lie to her about this. She didn't deserve it. "Six months ago."

"You never thought to tell me? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Yuki, I –"

"That day when you got the tickets, did you…" Yuki trailed off, lips thinning. "You weren't, were you? You were thinking about him, right? I asked if something was wrong and…"

"I fully intended on going to that concert with you. I never –"

"You weren't all there that day, Kyo! I asked you twice. So why are you telling me now?"

"Yuki –"

"So you don't hate him anymore. Neither does he. Are you…" Yuki blushed, her livid complexion now scarlet. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Said out loud like that, blatant in the open – boldness instead of shrinking, yielding politeness – which would be considered forward and unsuitable in their society. But Yuki reminded him of his mother – of Shizuka Kusanagi – and in this matter, Yuki would not let it rest unspoken.

He didn't say anything. It was an admission of truth in of itself.

"Does he feel the same, Kyo?"

This time, he nodded. Closed his hands around his knees. It reminded him of his father, which was distasteful to even think of at this time.

"Why didn't you tell me? Before you…"

"I…we couldn't."

"I'm not talking about Iori Yagami, Kyo. I'm talking about you. Why didn't _you _tell me?"

"It…it would've been bad if I –"

"If what?" Sitting across from her, Kyo saw her patience snap. Severity entered her eyes, tensed her clenched hands and changed her tone from ice to stone. "Kyo, you knew! You knew we were together! So why didn't you tell him that?"

"Yuki, it's not that –"

"Simple? Kyo!" Into the hardness of her face, Kyo glimpsed the wet shimmer of tears starting in her eyes. "We were together before you…he…. You knew! If you told him, he would've –"

"I couldn't."

"What do you mean 'You couldn't'?" The waspishness in her voice caught at him, like a hook in his heart. "He knew as well! That you and me were –"

"Yuki, he's never loved before. Not like this. I couldn't just –"

"Tell him you were unavailable? Something both of you knew for years?"

"It'll break his heart."

"So breaking mine would be better? Is that it, Kyo?" Anger lashing out, directed straight at him. "You said you were sorry earlier. Was that sincere? Or are you still lying to me?"

"Yuki –"

"How do I know what to believe anymore, Kyo? Why should I listen to you?"

"Yuki, I…it…I didn't want to…I love you both…I –"

Wetness on her cheeks, which were pale again. "Love us both? Kyo, I was first! Since high school. Back when you both were trying to kill each other. There isn't any…"

"I thought there was. But…"

"I wasn't told until you felt guilty. Is that right, Kyo?"

"No, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like, Kyo?" There was a warning in her tone. Keeping his gaze fixed on her was difficult.

He swallowed for the second time during this argument, throat dry. His fingers dug into the fabric of his pants, the only barrier between leaving nail marks in his skin. Yuki's usual happy countenance was gone, replaced by a glower that seemed alien on her face. Her purse lay on the side, forgotten. She was dressed well, pretty and bright. The air in the room felt stifling. He'd broken her heart. She was angry, which was her right. She wanted to know more.

He'd already broken her heart. He didn't want to break it anymore.

"Kyo, why are you telling me now?"

There was no retreat. There never had been.

"Because…it wasn't fair to you. Or him. Wanting you both."

"It's not fair to me, Kyo."

"I know. I…" He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling. "Yagami's in a bad place, Yuki. I…I can't leave him like that."

"So that's it, then? He's first now?"

"Yuki –"

"Kyo, you've decided. When you didn't tell me or tell him 'no'. It seems you've already decided even before you called me. Am I right?"

"I…. Yes."

"Kyo, I can't remain with you. Like this. You don't love me. Not like before."

"Yuki…"

"I know others would tell me to reconsider. That their boyfriends play around. That it's okay – all guys need to play. But, Kyo…I'm not like those girls. I can't do that."

He bowed his head. "I know."

"I'll let you decide what to do with the tickets."

He was right about that, too, then.

"You can let your mother know. I'm leaving, Kyo."

She would. She wouldn't have a reason to be around him, with him anymore, would she? Not after what he told her – his betrayal of her trust, of her fidelity. Yuki had more respect for herself than other women her age – would not stay in a sham relationship. If his father tried the same, his mother would have words for him, too.

It was part of the reason why he was attracted to her in the first place.

He didn't say goodbye to her. Didn't deserve that right.

Yuki walked out of the room, out of the house, and out of his life.

* * *

His mother didn't need to ask to know. It was in his face. He stayed away from his father and Uncle Hajime during the afternoon hours. If they knew, he'd never stop quarreling with them. They could find out in their own time, through their own network of spies. He was fine with that – it'll give him space to reform his thoughts, to reshape his words. During dinner, he remained silent, focusing only on his food and while his father exchanged a glance with his mother, Shizuka never gave him away. When Uncle Hajime questioned him, he parried it aside by saying he was tired.

It wasn't a lie, that one.

He was exhausted. Yuki had broken up with him, which he deserved.

Still, it didn't lessen the concern or love he had for Iori.

He'd made his choice. Had to live with the consequences. He'd been told that – knew that, so it shouldn't hurt this much. After all, he'd hurt Yuki even worse, hadn't he?

But Yuki was right. She was first. He'd known her before he'd known Iori and…

She was gone. By her own choice. Because of him.

Iori was still alive but for how long? A matter of days. They both knew that.

And once Iori was gone…

Kyo retired early that night, falling into a troubled sleep. When his phone buzzed, he picked it up and read Benimaru's relayed message. It only needed a two character response. However, he was unable to go back to sleep afterwards. Remained awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what else he could've done.

Tell Yuki and throw Iori to the wayside. Remain enemies and rivals with him.

Iori would be okay. Not like this. Not dying a painful wasting death.

Do what he already did.

The outcome would be this – one long-term relationship lost; the other, coming to an end.

There were no options that would let him have both.

Life didn't work that way. His life didn't, at least. If they hadn't been discovered, perhaps but…

He'd still be living a lie regarding Yuki, then, right?

Yagami would still die, but of the blood curse instead.

Kyo groaned and rolled towards the wall, pulling his blanket over his head. Consequences. He needed to own them. They were his. He was committed solely to Yagami now, for the other man was desperate and time was running out. Endless questioning was a luxury he couldn't afford – not at this juncture.

And yet…

Yuki. Sweet, faithful Yuki.

There was a price paid for what he desired. When all this was over, who was actually paying it? To whom was the penalty given?

He didn't want to know. Not right now.

It was too soon. Too soon and time was running out.


	25. Chapter 25 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 25~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

Iori went for a walk.

Clouds lay thick overhead, promising rain and the air was muggy, unlike the coolness of the last few nights. It was discomforting, but he needed to leave the apartment while he still could. Staying in there for too long drove him to darker thoughts, so a change of venue might leave them behind. Unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt – he always concealed his scars now – Iori felt better. Not cooler, no, but at least the air didn't feel as thick. It wasn't as if he was going far; however, a nighttime stroll in humid May weather was full of sweat and chirping insects, unless they were too overheated even for that.

He wiped the sweat from his face. Dried his hand on his jeans.

Continued walking, if hesitant stumbling steps could be considered that. He was still upright – still able to get up and around and move. Above him, the clouds were smears of dark gray against a sky black as ground ink. No moon. No stars. Just him, the dark expanse above and the artificial lighting from Osaka's nightlife, cars and neon signs and streetlights aglow. He stood and watched the life teeming in the distance and then moved on.

Despite the humidity, it was a beautiful evening.

Some nights, before all this began, he'd find himself among the nightlife – among the people still seeking pleasures and delights even after sunset. It was part of being in a band; it was a prerequisite of being in the entertainment business. As much as he'd like to go home after a performance, he knew they owed their groupies and for that, Iori stuck around long enough to fulfill his obligations. He was familiar with downtown Osaka and all it entailed.

If he'd been feeling better, he'd be there right now.

But that part of his life was over. He couldn't be there now – not in his condition. Not like this. Not like…

There was no moon. No stars. No light from above to illuminate his path.

Just him alone, walking down the lonely and silent street. Walking past people asleep or living their lives, each day going past without them counting the days. Lives free of his burden. Lives full of other wants and needs, desires and fears.

He went past those apartment complexes, those homes, and continued.

Time passed. Clouds rolled above him, dark against darker, like dissipated ink in water. He unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves. Tried not to think about the scarring on his arms, on his elbows and inside the curves where the joints were. He undid a third button on his shirt, widening the space between his collar. He needed water and there was a vending machine not far from here. Setting his jaw with determination, Iori headed for it.

By the time he made it there, he was ready to collapse.

Only sheer willpower kept him on his feet until he made his purchase. Then, his knees gave way and he fell forward, striking the side of his face against the hard plastic of the vending machine. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the brief pain; he'd suffered worse. From unwanted experience, he turned himself over, sitting with his back against the machine. Everything was sore now and he was dehydrated. Twisting the cap off the bottle of cold water, he downed half the contents in one gulp. Sitting like this, he looked out at the quiet emptiness, at the neighborhood where he lived.

Hard to believe he wouldn't be seeing this after a few days.

The rings hung heavy around his neck. He didn't reach up to touch them. Their weight was a reassurance – something lasting; memory lingering. He continued gazing at the sky and the city lights, listening for the occasional insect's nocturnal chirping. It was peaceful. The kind of solitude he sought, away from the noise in his head. Orochi hadn't intruded into his thoughts for days; perhaps, his own distress was enough to suffice. It was a small thing to be grateful for.

He took another drink of water, cradling the bottle in his thinning hands.

Perhaps, when the time came, he'd stay in a place like this. It wouldn't be so bad – not at all.

Just him and the quiet when everything ended. Better than wasting away in his apartment – a corpse in isolation.

Having made up his mind, Iori was at ease. He finished the water and tossed the bottle aside. It rolled against the recyclable container where it remained. Iori pulled his knee against his chest, wincing at its resistance, and then draped both arms over it. Resting his cheek against the crook of his arm, he closed his eyes. Within seconds, he was asleep.

* * *

It was the light rain that awoke him, spattering cold and wet against his exposed cheekbone. Iori glanced at the sky, groggy in his half-awake state and glimpsed light within the clouds, illuminated from within. It was his cue to find shelter, since it meant a thunderstorm and he was out in the open, soon to be drenched. With his temperature always hovering at fever-point, actually getting sick was a possibility and one that could cut his life short.

His heart had been weakened by the earlier stages of his ordeal. He never forgot that.

Getting to his feet, he made for the nearest bus stop, which had an overhang and a bench. While it wouldn't keep him from getting wet, it'd certainly be better than a complete downpour catching him off guard. He planned his route home in his head, mapping the different stops from his current location onward. If he was fortunate, the incoming storm would abate in sporadic pauses, giving him enough time to go from one stop to the next. He'd gone farther than expected tonight but getting home was still feasible.

So long as his body didn't betray him…

Just as he stumbled into the bus stop and folded himself into the corner upon the bench, the sky burst open. Rain roared down, sharp slanting streaks of cold silver turning the darkness into an indeterminable blur. From where he sat, visibility was nil; if the nightlife was still ongoing, it was veiled by the relentless hammering storm. With his back to the glass, Iori huddled inward, arms around his knees. Without a barrier to ward off the rain, it gusted toward him in an icy spray. Within minutes, he was soaked.

Getting home without falling ill was looking less likely by the second.

As long as he made it home…

He wasn't sure how long he waited, but eventually, there was a lull. Uncurling himself from the bench, he made for the next stop, pushing his weary body forward. The wet and cold combined with his overheated state intensified his aches and pains; he was lightheaded. The ground, though solid, seemed to waver beneath his feet. He was going to pass out – needed to reach the stop first. If he lost consciousness in the street or on the sidewalk, he was never getting home.

Would die out here in the middle of the storm.

Iori knew he was dying – soon enough – but dying like that was beneath his dignity.

He would see home again. Would see Kyo again, once he heard back from Nikaido. He couldn't fight off his ailment but a mere thunderstorm? Since when did a storm overcome Iori Yagami?

He just needed to make it to the second stop. Just…

His feet were tired. His body didn't want to obey him. His eyes were heavy.

He wasn't going to lose this one. He was going to…going to make it there. Into the stop. Just a few more feet. It was visible – a distinct shape going indistinct, sharp edges blurring. He was about to pass out. Forcing himself the last few feet, Iori managed to make it onto the bench before his body called its surrender. The last thing he heard was the clattering of his rings against cold steel.

Then, all was darkness.

* * *

His phone vibrated against his thigh. Once, twice, three times. Only on the fourth did he awake, roused from unconsciousness by its persistence. Blinking, his eyesight readjusting to the darkness, Iori retrieved the device from his pocket. The area around his eyes burned, which only made the sudden screen brightness hurt. His head pounded and the aches were now accompanied by constant shivering. He was sick – needed to get home…needed to…

There was a missed call. Nikaido.

He hit the "Call" button. Tried to keep his hands from shaking.

It was three in the morning. He'd been out longer than usual. How much of that time was spent unconscious? He'd fallen asleep earlier by the vending machine. Had lost track of time, then. When he left home, it'd been nine at night.

His nose began running. He started coughing.

No. This wasn't good. At all. He needed to…needed to…

"Yagami? Is that you?"

"Nikaido," he said, caught off guard by the hoarseness in his voice. "What are you –"

"Yagami, you okay? You sound –"

"I'm fine." He wasn't but Benimaru Nikaido didn't need to know that. "What are you calling for?"

"Kyo said 'Yes'. We'll be able to make it at the park Saturday. You sure you're okay?"

His hand shook. He gripped the phone tighter and clenched his teeth, biting back a cough irritating his throat. His shivering had turned to chills – waves of alternating heat and cold – and Iori knew if he didn't make it home tonight, he was going to die out here. He couldn't – not yet. Not like this. It'd be pathetic. A poor ending for someone like him.

"Did he say anything else?"

"No. Just 'Yes'. Do you –"

"No." Even if he did, he wasn't feeling his best right now. "I'll…"

"Yagami, you –"

"I'll see him there." He disconnected the call; the phone slipped out of his hand a second later, clattering onto rain-drenched concrete. The world was hazy – shimmering – and he was exhausted. He reclined against the bench, back to glass and wanted to lie down and sleep. Close his eyes. Fall back into pure emptiness, into silence and a world without sensation, without…

But if he did…

If he did, he would die. Right here. Right now.

He couldn't. Not yet. Not…

Iori forced himself onto his feet. Glanced at the sky – the clouds turbulent – and beyond where the rain fell. Continued falling, a silver mist as far as he could see. He needed to leave. To go home. There was one final meeting and then he could rest.

In the quiet. In the open. In the solitude that suited him.

Retrieving his phone, Iori gazed at the obscurity ahead. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders back and turning his steps homeward, exited his temporary shelter. Rain curtained around him – driving down cold as knives into flesh – swallowing him whole. His world was gray, with glimmers of silver, and it was just him in the world.

Him and the sibilance, a different kind of silence.

He embraced it – took to it as a sort of comfort.

All around him, silver. Silver unending.


	26. Chapter 26 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 26~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"You damn fool. Call her back. Tell her you misspoke."

Kyo crossed his arms, stood with his legs apart as if anchoring himself in his father's study, and gave both Saisyu and Uncle Hajime the stoniest glare he could muster. Sure enough, like his mother suspected, his father found out about his fallout with Yuki and displeasure quickly followed on the heels of that discovery. Now, his father and uncle wanted to do damage control, calling him to account for his "error in judgment" and part of that meant getting Yuki back.

That wasn't happening for obvious reasons.

"I didn't misspeak. I told her the truth. You want me to lie again to her, Dad?"

"Tell her you're confused. That you're –"

"All false. She'll know that."

Rigid silence. His father returned his glare with an impressive and frightening one of his own; Uncle Hajime's scowl was no less intimidating. "It's all because of that boy, brother. He's the one behind this."

"Leave Yagami out of it, uncle," Kyo said, narrowing his eyes. "He has nothing to do with it."

"He has everything to do with this. Your insolence. Your recklessness. Where did you learn them from, eh? That boy twisted you – turned you against us. Against your own."

"He didn't do anything."

"Saisyu, listen to him. Listen to your son. Still, he ascribes good to that Yagami brat and why? Because –"

Kyo bristled. "Uncle, don't you dare –"

"I'm only telling the truth, nephew. You think because you bedded the bastard that –"

He took a step forward, an intentional threat. "Stop right there, uncle."

"You see how he talks, brother? Is it allowed?"

Knowing what was likely to happen next, Kyo steeled himself and met his father's stern gaze. No, talking back to elders was never allowed – rude and against everything he'd been taught, but Uncle Hajime knew nothing about their circumstances. Attributing what he knew about Iori to only sex and nothing else was…it was insulting. What his father and uncle didn't understand and never would was that he'd been permitted to know the other side of Iori Yagami. The vulnerable side – the side Iori rarely revealed unless he trusted someone. Kyo could count the number of people Iori trusted on one hand, which was very few. The fact that Iori trusted him was…

No, they wouldn't understand. No explanation he gave would ever enlighten them on that aspect. It was a waste of breath even trying.

"Apologize to your uncle, Kyo."

A command, not a suggestion. He knew this would happen.

"He's wrong."

"He's your uncle. Your elder. Apologize. Or have you forgotten your manners entirely, Kyo Kusanagi?"

His full name. His father only used it when he misbehaved or there was something important he needed to know. This was the former instead of the latter; only, he wasn't a child anymore. His uncle was wrong and he shouldn't have to bow and say sorry because he outranked him by age. It wasn't like his situation with Yuki at all.

"Uncle Hajime's mistaken, Dad. It's not what he assumes."

"You presume to correct your elders?"

Kyo stood his ground, kept his gaze level with both older men and stayed silent. On the wall behind his father and uncle were scrolls with bold calligraphy, characters for 'courage' and 'wisdom' written with large brushstrokes. The wooden panel from the clan archival building was here somewhere, but Kyo erred on the side of caution and didn't glance around. He wanted to ask his father about the technique – about what the hell he exactly did to Iori – but the premature timing would backfire. Would result in Iori's death by fire. So he kept his mouth shut.

It was what the other man would do, he supposed.

"I assumed incorrectly, eh?" His uncle strode forward, keen expression sharpening. "How so, nephew? You threw aside your girlfriend for that bastard."

Kyo breathed through his nose. Didn't say anything.

"Decided to play around, huh? Forgivable, if it'd been anyone else. But your rival…the boy who swore to kill you…"

"He never followed through."

"Because he had other plans, Kyo." Uncle Hajime circling around him, steps like tightening ropes in a snare. "Taking our clan down was his first priority."

"Bullshit."

"Oh? You think because you slept with him that you know him so well?"

"If he wanted to, he'd have done it already."

"Or he changed his plans. Used you instead. Divide and conquer." His uncle stopped in front of him, crossing his arms as well. "Ever think of that, nephew? About how gullible you are?"

The one detail his uncle and father weren't aware of was how it all began. Iori hadn't been the one to initiate – wasn't even cognizant of the change occurring within him. Kyo had to point it out to him and then had to explain further, since it only confused Yagami more. If Yagami had started it, then his uncle's farfetched theory might seem sound. However, the origin of their relationship past the rivalry wasn't with the other fighter at all.

Kyo stared at his uncle. Revealing that fact mightn't be wise right now.

Uncle Hajime scoffed. "You believed him. What did he tell you, Kyo?"

Nothing. Iori didn't seduce him or speak pretty words. He was the one that…

"You don't understand him. Same with you, Dad."

His father stepped forward, bringing his hands out of his sleeves. "I understand he's taken my son and turned him into a dimwitted fool. Stop this nonsense, Kyo."

"Did you even care for that girl, nephew? Or was she just a –"

"You know I do."

"Still?" His uncle looked at him with sneering disbelief. "Then why was she upset yesterday?"

"That's between me and her."

"And the clan." Saisyu cut in, interposing with authority. "You disrespected Yuki. You elevated your enemy above your family, your friends, your intended. Whatever Iori Yagami told you, you believed. Believed and lied. To me, to her, to everyone. You should be ashamed, Kyo. Instead, you stand here and spit hard words at your elders. You should be apologizing. But you're not."

"The clan doesn't run my life."

"The clan's the reason why you're even important."

"Maybe that was how it was done in the past, but now –"

"Did Yagami tell you anything about his clan? How they dealt with insolence?"

Kyo stiffened. Somehow, this sounded familiar.

"I've been lenient, Kyo. Too much, it seems. You will call Yuki. You will beg for her forgiveness and you will do whatever is necessary for her to return to you. All the rest is past, including your shamefulness with that boy."

"Yuki's not going to –"

"Whatever it takes, son. You will make amends to her."

"She's not coming back."

"She will, because you'll be responsible for that."

"Brother." His uncle gave him a passing glance and then directed his attention at Saisyu. "Perhaps the wronged girl needs some recompense."

"In what way?"

"Eliminate the problem."

"Wait, Hajime. That's too –"

"Why?" Kyo asked, stifling his horror but not his anger. "What did he do to –"

"You need to ask?" His uncle snapped back with greater ire. "Disgracing the heir of the rival clan. That called for war before."

"He didn't –"

"Hajime, there are conditions." His father turned, saw his expression, and discontinued the discussion with his uncle. Kyo fumed, certain he was going to be dismissed. After all, his father disavowed any involvement regarding Iori Yagami and maintained that stance to this day. But Kyo knew those conditions Iori now lived by – harsh, soul-crushing, withering – and if the two older men had plans to end Iori's life…

"Conditions, brother?"

"What conditions, Dad?" He was going to play the fool. Find out as much as he could. "Didn't you say Yagami didn't concern you?"

"Your father's talking to me, nephew."

"Let's save it for another time, Hajime."

"What conditions?" he pressed, rage heightening his senses until everything in his father's study seemed sharper, details in sudden focus. The lamp with dust on its green glass panes. The open ink box with an unused brush by its side. _Shoji_ dappled with sunlight and faint shadows from outside. The whiteness of the _tatami_, smooth beneath his feet. The straightness of his father's back – of the posture he'd taken. Disapproval etched deep in Uncle Hajime's face even as he stood before and to the left of his father like a guard.

"I'm done talking to you, son."

"What conditions? Did you talk to him, Dad?"

"It's none of your concern, Kyo. It's time for you to leave."

"You did, didn't you? Why else would you –"

"Kyo Kusanagi!" His full name again. "My discussion with you is over."

Just like that, huh? Brushed off like all the previous times. His hands were clenched; he stood with legs apart and from his uncle's wary look and positioning, Kyo knew he'd become a threat. He wondered what Iori saw that day – if it was something like this. Had his battle-honed instincts warned him or was he completely taken off guard? Had he realized Saisyu showing up meant danger? Yagami hadn't wanted to fight Saisyu and his father…

His father had apparently taken the advantage and injured Iori.

No…not injured. Driven him to the edge, where he remained.

It'd been about a month and a half, now closer to completing two months. Until he'd found a way to communicate and finally meet up with Iori, the other man had struggled alone. Now, Iori had about a week – maybe a little less or a little more – before his father's vengeance for an imagined wrong took its final toll. June was near, but Yagami mightn't live to see it.

All because of…

Kyo loosened his fists, closed his stance, and tried relaxing his shoulders. He still burned with rage but Uncle Hajime and his father appeared ready to fight. There were also other clan members here – would probably be outside the study – and while he could fight them, he wouldn't come out unscathed. Getting himself hospitalized wasn't smart. Yagami needed him whole and healthy, not incapacitated himself.

"If his name shows up in the public obituary, I'll know who's to blame." He kept his voice quiet and calm; yet, saw both older men register his tone. Kyo turned to leave, already extending a hand outward to push aside the sliding door.

His father's voice halted his action. "Remember what I told you about traitors, son."

He stood there, recalling the tragic story his uncle told him. About the woman from his clan and the young man from the Yagami clan. How the blood feud prevented them from escaping their fate. How both were seen as betrayers of the cause – one executed and the other sent on a mission to die. How unfair it all was.

"Uncle Hajime told me as well. They weren't traitors, Dad. None of them were."

He slid open the door, paper and wood giving way to the long corridor within the house. Took a step out. It felt like freedom. Behind him, his father spoke. "I want you to call Yuki. Today. Don't make me remind you, son."

He didn't bother responding. Yuki wouldn't pick up, or even if she did, the ensuing conversation would be short. They only broke up yesterday and it was his fault. She wasn't going to accept any apology – not when he was still involved with Iori and she was aware of it. If her parents knew the truth as well…

Groveling before her wasn't going to work. He'd made his choice.

Time to live with it.

"Did you hear me, Kyo?"

"I did. I have plans on Saturday, Dad. Outside with Benimaru and Goro. You have any problems with that?"

"Your uncle will –"

"And one of the other clan members. I know. So I'm fine, right?"

Oppressive silence. Kyo waited.

"One day, you'll see this is all a big mistake, Kyo. You'll regret this."

Kyo took the final step out and didn't turn back to look at Saisyu. He slid the door closed behind him, put his hands in his pockets and started walking back to his room, ignoring the other clan members.

Regrets? Certainly. He felt bad for Yuki – for what he did to her.

His relationship with Yagami? A mistake?

Never.


	27. Chapter 27 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 27~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"Yagami-san, how are you feeling?"

It'd been a close call. All he remembered before was rain and more rain, cold wet silver and then the police box in his vision before everything went dark. He'd almost made it home, but his body couldn't take the strain anymore. The police must've called for an ambulance, taken him inside the small shelter and waited until emergency services arrived. His second time in the hospital, Iori reflected, staring at the ceiling. Illness prevented him from delving into bitterness; he didn't have energy for it.

The nurse standing nearby asked him again, voice gentle. He turned his face towards her.

"What day is it?"

"Thursday. You've been here since early morning."

He turned to look out the window, at the gray afternoon with its overcast sky. Silver all around, drenching him to the bone and the fever that ensued. He must've looked terrible for the police to make an emergency call, to even consider that kind of immediate attention for him. He no longer knew what his appearance was like – just that he looked like a man with death lingering near, aware and resigned to his untimely fate.

Outside, rain continued to fall. He was disconnected yet again, trapped within walls.

Iori directed his attention back to the nurse. "Am I…is this…"

_Am I dying for good here? Is this the end? Will I see…_

He tried to sit upright but a sudden dizziness sank him back onto his pillow. Heat fluctuated, fierce and unyielding, coming down upon him in waves and Iori cursed it while clinging onto consciousness. If only it would leave him, would give him some respite, then…then maybe he'd have a chance of…. There was rapid beeping and sweat dampened his hair while soaking the sheets. Through it all, the illness ravaged him whole. Everything ached – soreness pulsated in the back of his skull, each one a stabbing pain – and dryness permeated his throat. Yet, there was a chill in his bones and the ice and heat waged war within his weakening body.

_You're not coming back from this._

Somehow, he knew. This illness – his exposure to the elements – had hastened his deterioration. How many days did he have left now? After this?

_I need to see Kyo. I can't just…_

Dying in a hospital bed wasn't how he wanted to go. He needed to see Kyo again – to staunch that unending ache in his soul. Only then…only then could he rest, outside and away from people. His death would be discovered days later but it wouldn't matter by then. Kyo would move on – had others in his life; had a future beyond what he could offer. Kyo was a fighter and he never gave up. Iori knew Kyo would win that fight, so he wasn't worried.

But if he wanted to see Kyo again…

Iori struggled to keep his eyes open, to focus on what was in front of him. A blank wall. The ceiling. If he wanted to see Kyo again, he couldn't stay here. He needed to…needed to check himself out ahead of schedule and against the doctor's orders.

Saturday. The public "meeting" was on Saturday.

It was Thursday afternoon and he was weak, tired, and febrile. Couldn't lift himself out of bed. He needed to be able to do that by Friday, or else he wasn't making it to the park. He wouldn't see Kyo again if he remained bedridden – if he succumbed to his fever.

He couldn't die like this. Wouldn't.

He'd fought the toughest fight in his entire life – almost two months – and all his other battles paled in comparison to it. With those, he'd been at his height and everything fell away from him because of brute force. He'd been strong, then and intimidating. With this, though…after what Saisyu did to him, strength was no longer applicable. Brute force did nothing against lack of appetite, constant feverish temperatures, near full body burns, and continual sapping of his energy. Everything he took for granted had to be regained day by day; he barely scraped by sometimes. It was an arduous fight and he was still here.

Still fighting it, still battling against the day when defeat was imminent.

He used to be a fighter in the physical sense, back when he had the stamina for it. Now, though…now, the fighting was in an aspect he was unused to, where he didn't have advantages against his obstacles. His allies were few, his options limited, and everything that once gave him joy were taken away until there was nothing left.

Nothing but Kyo, which was really all that mattered.

It'd always been about Kyo. That'd never changed.

The nurse was by his side. The doctor was with her – an older man with wrinkles in his face. Not Doctor Yamashita but he wasn't in the burn unit anymore and this wasn't even the same hospital. He couldn't read the man's name tag – his vision faded in and out – so all Iori could do was listen as the doctor gave instructions to the nurse. There was an IV drip in his hand, which meant fluids.

Fluids would prolong his life. For how long, though, was the question.

He still needed to eat. That urge was growing less urgent as the days went by.

The doctor said something. The nurse responded.

Iori closed his eyes. Fell into darkness and silence.

* * *

It was evening when he was gently awakened by the nurse running her shift on his floor. The hospital had prepared a meal for him – soft foods and soup. He tried to sit up but his limbs were heavy as if burdened with weights, so the nurse helped him. As she did, he felt an absence around his neck and panic seized him. Iori glanced around the small room, looking for the gleam of chrome and gunmetal steel. "My rings…where are they?"

The woman stopped mid-motion, gaze flicking over to a small stand tucked in the nearest corner. He followed her line of sight and glimpsed the barest hint of metal. He must've looked desperate, because she released him, walked over to the stand, and came back with the rings still looped within the chain. Iori reached out for the rings – his hand was thin, bones visible – and took them, closing his fingers over cold steel.

The nurse was apologetic. "We had to remove them in order to do the X-ray." She bowed. "I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything. Simply felt where the rings once laid atop his sternum. X-rays. So they had his medical history. Knew about the shattered bone. They also knew about everything else.

"Yagami-san, please eat. The food will get cold."

Iori looked down at the tray in front of him. Thick rice porridge with dishes of pickled vegetables. A bowl of _miso_ soup with chopped spring onions on top. No meat – nothing that required chewing. He ran his tongue over his teeth and gums. He wasn't that weak yet, was he? Were they simply looking out for him – feeding him comfort foods to fight off the fever?

The food looked good but he couldn't smell it.

It wasn't a great loss. He hadn't tasted anything for a while now.

There was a sound and the nurse moved away, exiting the room. She closed the door behind her, leaving him alone in the sudden quiet. Placing the rings down beside him, Iori picked up the chopsticks on the tray. His right hand trembled, fingers unsteady and he dreaded his lack of dexterity. Uncertain, he returned the utensils to their spot on the tray and cupped the bowl of soup in both hands. Even now, the chill permeated through him, extending into the tips of his fingers. Steam arose, hovering around his face – warmth against coldness, no longer uncomfortable.

He bent his head down and drank.

No taste – nothing – yet the sensation of soup going down his throat was wonderful. He was sweating despite the fever-induced iciness; for once, hot food didn't compound his misery regarding his body temperature. It stemmed off the cold for a few seconds, which was more than he expected. Finishing the soup, he put the bowl aside and reached for the rice porridge.

That, too, he finished; although, he got some of it on the blanket.

He wasn't interested in the pickled vegetables.

Iori pushed the tray further down the side of the bed, took his rings in hand, lay down, and pulled the blanket over him. There was a warm weight in his stomach dispelling the worst of the chill and he was drowsy. Steady beeps from the heart monitor accompanied him and he traced the interior of the smaller ring, the etched design silky smooth against his finger.

The sun. The moon. Linked – a full circle. Unified.

If only. If only they could without opposition.

Kyo. Kyo Kusanagi. His once rival, enemy, and the man he'd been determined to kill.

Saturday. He needed to make it there. To see him before…

Iori clenched his hand tight around the rings, the chain biting into the thin flesh of his palm. The back of his throat itched. Deep racking coughs followed, his slender frame shuddering from its violence. He set his teeth and buried his face into the pillow, resisting the urge to moan in anguish. His lungs were on fire, his diaphragm hurt, and his ribs felt fragile, ready to snap. Time was indistinguishable, passing in nightmarish slowness and when the worst was over, he was drained and limp, lying on sweat-soaked sheets.

Blood on the pillow, stark and crimson against pale fabric.

He wasn't making it past this.

_No! I refuse to…it doesn't end here. Like this._

Saturday.

He was checking out tomorrow, even if it killed him. He had to see Kyo. Must.

The fight wasn't over yet.


	28. Chapter 28 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 28~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

It was quite possibly the riskiest action he'd ever taken. He could almost hear Iori's _"Don't be a fucking idiot, Kyo"_ in his head. Yet, it had to be done, since Kyo wasn't getting any answers.

It was midnight and he was outside his room, crouching low next to the raised wooden walkway, eyeing the clan archival building in the distance. Here and there were clan members, positioned at the main entrances and exits throughout their ancient building complex. They weren't guarding anything important; their purpose was to prevent him from sneaking out. Well, that wasn't his intent. He wanted to access his father's study, but going straight there was bound to cause complications and trouble. If the wooden panel in the tunnel could be removed…

Yagami would call him an idiot. He wouldn't be wrong.

But Kyo was sick and tired of being given non-answers and if his father and uncle were escalating the situation towards outright murder of his lover…

Yuki was gone. It still hurt – her leaving – but it wasn't undeserved.

Iori was dying, but hell if he'd sit by while that date was advanced forward.

He didn't know what he could do short of disrupting or fighting his own clan – treachery (no other way to name those actions) – but wasn't he already blacklisted as a traitor anyway? His father saw him differently and Uncle Hajime despised him. With exception of his mother and Aoi, he returned the same contempt to other members of the clan situated here. He didn't have much to lose, but Yagami lost nearly everything. His music, his health, his less than dreary outlook on life, and soon…

Iori had risked everything for this relationship. Had gambled and lost.

Kyo was going to throw in his chips, too. It wouldn't be fair otherwise.

Above, the sky was overcast, full of clouds. Below, the grounds were sodden and muddy; puddles scattered throughout and the courtyard stones reflected light from a few hanging lamps. Kyo studied the placement of the lamps and began moving slow and quiet, careful about leaving footprints or casting his shadow where it could be seen. One of the clan members shifted at his post before a sliding door. Kyo sank lower to the ground and froze.

Didn't move a muscle.

Back when Yagami could still fight – stood equally against him – Kyo had the pleasure (and subsequent displeasure) of seeing how agile the other man was. Iori had been capable of dropping low and having a long reach, making him difficult to hit. Staying in his position, waiting for the clan member to look the other way, Kyo wondered what Yagami would think if he saw him like this.

Idiot, he'd probably say.

Is my form good? He'd ask that – want to know, see if he could improve.

You're still an idiot. Yagami would say that, roughness in his affection.

There were certain things the other man wouldn't say. Kyo had learned to read between the lines – to judge him by his actions – and Iori's decisions amidst his anguish said the unspoken words existing between them. Yagami could've easily demanded he stay with him that day, but he hadn't. Had mentioned Kyo's future instead and gently pushed him away. With how obsessive Iori had been before all this, Kyo wouldn't have been surprised if his love was possessive.

It wasn't, which was astonishing.

A mild breeze blew past, setting the grass in the courtyard whispering and the clan member moved further within the walkway to avoid the wind. It also shifted the focus of his attention. Kyo moved, creeping close to the outer edge of the walkway on his side, scurrying into shadows and avoiding rain puddles. Along with leaving behind muddy footprints, splashing around would make his whereabouts known. He was supposed to be asleep, not sneaking outside in the dark.

It was muggy and with the wind, now chilly.

Raindrops from the rooftops dripped downward. The breeze picked up again, spattering water onto his shirt. Clan members murmured above him, shuffled about, switched places, and continued their watch. As they did this, Kyo advanced nearer and nearer to his destination. The lights weren't on in the archival building but that was okay. He only needed one place lit and he had his phone with him for additional illumination. He didn't want to announce his arrival there, after all.

When he crossed the last stretch of ground between the two buildings, Kyo hoisted himself onto the rain-slicked wooden platform, removed his shoes and padded inside. Bypassing the ironwood bookshelf with its histories, he headed for the back rooms. The corridor was lit like before and the left room also had soft illumination. He didn't waste any time clearing the sole shelf of its contents, stacking the books on the counter and hitting the switch. As the mechanisms worked, Kyo removed his shirt, wrapped his wet shoes in them, and stashed the bundle behind the books.

It was going to be another crawl, but this time, he was determined to find what he sought.

The ancient techniques book had to be in his father's study. The question was where?

He was going to find out. He wasn't going to leave until he discovered it.

With phone in hand, Kyo entered the tunnel. This time, it didn't take long to reach the wooden panel. Activating the flashlight on his phone, he shone the beam at the panel, squinting. There appeared to be locks or something like them on his side; what the other side held, he'd find out later. Reaching up, he touched one. The mechanism was constructed out of wood, its design reminding him of those clever toys that required insight to solve.

Surely, this wouldn't be so complex. If one needed to enter…

Angling the beam of light towards the side of the mechanism, Kyo saw how it worked. There were four of these locks – one for each corner – which could be slid and pushed into the interior crevice specifically designed for them. However, without a light source, he wouldn't have seen the details. He hadn't known these existed his first time in this place. Without waiting, he took care of the first lock. However, on the second, he was stymied.

It had appeared identical, but it wasn't. What had he missed?

Pulling the wooden lock out of the slot, he tried it again. Nothing.

Huh?

Perhaps…it wasn't so straightforward with the remaining ones. Maybe they had a little trick to them. If he slid this one upward or downward and then…

Click.

Ah, so that was it. A different direction for the others – a variation of the original. He did the same for the other two – trial and error, since they also had their quirks – and finally faced a panel without obstruction. Kyo placed his open palm on the surface and pushed.

The panel refused to budge.

_Wha –_

What was going on now? If he couldn't push it outward, then…

Misconceptions or misdirection. Like the other room with its fancy sealed scrolls. The real secret was in the unassuming room. If this wasn't meant to be pushed, then maybe…

Applying minor pressure, Kyo rolled the panel upward. There was a slight sound – loud in the silence – and then a softer click as the panel locked in place. The room beyond was dark. He turned the flashlight off his phone. With the _shoji_ sliding door and wall facing the innermost hallway, even the dimmest light would show. He'd made it this far – he couldn't fail now.

Staying low to the floor, Kyo crawled out of the tunnel. While waiting for his eyes to adjust, he swept his gaze left and right, up and down along the dimensions of the room. Beside him was his father's table, low in the traditional style and as his vision sharpened, he saw the outlines of the closed inkstone, the paste pot, and the few brushes Saisyu used for calligraphy and other means of correspondence. Outside, wind whistled past the walls and indistinct voices murmured along the innermost corridor.

Kyo remained still, listening. The voices approached – one young, one older – and passed, fading to silence as the seconds ticked by. He waited a minute more before moving.

Caution prevailed. If he was caught here, right now…

His father kept reminding him about traitors. Uncle Hajime told him that story about one of his ancestors. Yagami…Yagami warned him to be careful. To not be a goddamn idiot, because he was worried about him. Being the heir wouldn't protect him from a traitorous charge or the penalty. Iori's own father would've killed him. If Iori's father would've done that, then the same applied for him. Saisyu Kusanagi was his father but he was also the current head patriarch. It was only his right as heir that shielded him from further judgment.

But if he was caught red-handed, digging around in his father's study…

Shivers went down Kyo's spine. He needed to find the book, take what he needed, and get back into his room. He was supposed to be there, asleep. If someone went in and discovered he was gone, the entire estate would be in an uproar. Uncle Hajime, no doubt, would start looking in this direction. Or head for the archival building based on his earlier suspicions.

As for his father…

He didn't have time to waste. Where in this study would his father hide the book?

It needed to be accessible. While his father's kimono sleeves were voluminous, Kyo doubted he hid the book on his person. Made no sense, especially since he didn't need it on a daily basis. Not underneath the matting. Perhaps one of the lacquer boxes in here – the kind used to store letters and documents. But that required opening each box in utter silence and without light to show the contents. Not only would he make a lot of noise, but going about it blindly wouldn't give him anything. He'd probably get caught and then…

He looked at his father's table. It seemed ordinary. Flat heavy wood with simple lines. No ornamentation. His writing supplies arranged in order with brushes on the right, inkstone and paste pot to the left of them and covered sheets of paper at the other end. The glass desk lamp at the front. Nothing was unique or extraordinary on the top.

Kyo pulled his phone out. Ran his thumb over the power button.

Nothing worth noting on top. What about underneath it?

He couldn't use the flashlight here. Instead, craning his neck, he glanced under the table and angled the phone screen towards the underside. Hitting the power button, he watched as the faint light came on, revealing what looked like a thin volume strapped to the bottom of the table. His brow creased. Interesting. He peered over the edge of the table, checked his surroundings, and returned to the object of interest.

The book was bound in place by braided cord. Giving the cord a sharp tug, he undid it and caught the volume before it hit the matted floor. It was a slim book, clothbound with silk and in decent condition. Opening it beneath the table, Kyo shone his phone's screen light onto the pages. There were diagrams of the human body, delicate _kanji_ written in the margins and certain symbols alongside the limbs and drawn organs.

This had to be it. This was what he'd been looking for.

He couldn't read it here. He couldn't take it out with him. But he had his phone.

The book only had fifteen pages. There were five diagrams. He needed those five pages.

He couldn't turn on the desk lamp. If anyone outside walked by, the assumption that Saisyu was awake would cause trouble. Particularly if his father was awake and was elsewhere, which would be bad. It'd mean an intruder in his study – he was – and if someone decided to check…

He wouldn't be able to get out of here fast enough.

Kyo took another risk: he turned his phone's flashlight on and directed it at the first diagram. Took a snapshot of the lit page, trying to get the details as clear as possible. Looked up, scanned the _shoji_, listened for footsteps and moved onto the second diagram.

His nerves were strung tight. His ears picked up all sounds.

The last thing he needed was his dad and uncle dropping by. That would…

Diagram three. Four. Five.

The last picture taken, he shut off the flashlight, pocketed the phone, and refastened the book to the underside of the table. Crude work, but he couldn't waste time making it neat. He had to get the hell outta here. Just as he turned towards the tunnel exit, the unmistakable sound of male voices came from further down the corridor. Older male voices.

Kyo backed into the tunnel feet first, shuffled inside, and yanked the panel down.

The _shoji_ door slid open. Kyo held his breath.

"Looking for something, brother?"

"Just need to…" His father's voice trailed off. "Hajime, were you here earlier?"

"No. Why'd you ask?"

"Because…it appears someone was here before." From where he lay hidden in the tunnel, Kyo heard his father's footfalls. "If it wasn't you…"

"Your wife?"

"No. Shizuka would've let me know."

A weighted pause. "Saisyu…where's your son?"

His father said something but the panel muffled the words. "...'sleep, Hajime."

"…sure?"

Oh shit. He had to…he had to get back before…

"Hajime, take Takeo with you and check." Silence. "I'll be here. Let me know."

"I'll check the archival building, too. He knows the secret passage, remember?"

His father didn't say anything or if he did, Kyo couldn't hear it. If his uncle was going to the archival building and his father was in the study, he was trapped. Reaching for his phone, Kyo turned it on, went into the text message app, wrote a short sentence and sent the message to one particular recipient with five attachments. He deleted the photos right after, apprehension churning his gut.

Don't be an idiot, Yagami had said. Had relayed to him via Benimaru.

But he needed to know. For Yagami's sake. If anything could help…

Kyo jerked backward, startled as the wooden panel rolled open. Stared at Saisyu – at his father's grim and terrifying expression. From here, the whites of his father's eyes were unnatural.

"So Hajime was right."

The planes of his father's face seemed to lengthen. Grew harsher.

"Get out of there, Kyo. I want answers from you. Now."

Kyo braced himself. He still had to see Yagami on Saturday.

He wasn't losing here.


	29. Chapter 29 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 29~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"_Yagami, what is it about jazz? I don't get it."_

_ "There's nothing to get, Kyo. Just listen."_

Coughs tore through him – his abdomen ached and he strained to breathe. Blood spattered on the pillow, on the sheets. The nurses had replaced his bedclothes and given him medication a few hours before but this fresh bout of agony undid it all. It wasn't the blood curse – couldn't be – yet, the pain was excruciating.

_Kyo holding one of his CDs. Flipping the case over to read the tracks._

_ Kyo running his fingers through his hair by way of greeting as he awoke from a late nap._

His fist closed tight around the blanket, bunching it in between his fingers. Heat and pain and ice locked in his bones. His hair spread over the edge of the pillow, a dark mass lit by the heart monitor's faint light. The beeping sound continued – rising and falling, rising and falling.

He looked at the machine, forcing himself to keep his eyes open.

_"Huh." Kyo thumbing through one of the novels he'd taken off the shelf. "Didn't know you liked to read."_

_ "Just because you didn't graduate –"_

_ Kyo shot him a look – one Iori knew and had seen before. "Come on, Yagami. I hear that from everyone. Can you not –"_

_ "You make it too easy, Kyo."_

_ The book went back on the shelf. "Really?"_

_ "Yes."_

The rings were sprawled upon the bed, gleaming in the dim light. He'd put them around his neck again earlier. Was afraid to lose them. He didn't have much left.

_"That's the ugliest shirt I've seen."_

_ He glanced over the couch at Kyo, whose face was twisted with obvious dislike. "You're not wearing it."_

_ "Why always purple?"_

_ "Why not?"_

_ "Pinstripes?"_

_ He shrugged. "I like them."_

_ "Of course you do, Yagami. Still ugly, though."_

_ He snorted. Watched as Kyo strode over and sat down beside him. "So, you have a concert tonight?"_

The lines on the heart monitor peaked and declined, over and over again. The sound was rhythmic, soothing in its own way and Iori kept his gaze on the screen, seeing his life broken down into numbers and graphs. It was logical and concrete – nothing vague, complex, or uncertain like how his life was and continued to be. So long as the lines remained moving, he was alive and able to function, however limited he was now.

He wanted to leave tomorrow in the afternoon. After some sleep. After regaining strength.

There was an IV drip taped to his hand, fluids sustaining him.

Blood in between his teeth, on his tongue, in his throat.

Iori coughed, covering his mouth with his hand.

_Ramen bowls on the table. Chicken with grilled onions on skewers. A pack of beer. _

_ "Got us lunch," Kyo said, placing both hands on top of his chair and leaning forward. With his casual style and nonchalance, Iori found him attractive. There was always something about Kyo's eyes and body language that got his attention._

_ "Where's your fish?" _

_ The other man leaned back and pulled his chair out. "Don't need it."_

_ "Your favorite, though."_

_ "Let's eat before the ramen gets cold." A smile on the other's face – his eyes warm. "Let's talk later."_

_ Hunger was suddenly the last thing on Iori's mind._

Shivers wracked his body, driving him deeper under the blanket. The material wasn't doing much against the chills and worked against him by keeping in the heat. He moaned, pulling the edge of thick fabric away from his face. His pillow was damp and his breaths were shallow. Should he ring the nurse for medication? Or could he endure? Hold on for a bit longer?

In the corner, his phone went off, throwing light against the wall.

It vibrated once, twice, and then went silent.

_Kyo threw a punch, which he easily caught. The other man grinned._

_ He released his fist, stepped back and fell into stance. Across from him, Kyo resumed his._

_ "Don't go easy on me, Yagami."_

_ "Same to you, Kyo." Nothing lethal, but none of them wanted to hold back too much. "Still want a good fight."_

_ The other's expression turned cocky. "Give me everything you've got."_

Who was calling him or trying to reach out to him? The only contacts he currently had were Kyo and Nikaido, which meant…

His phone was on the stand in the corner. He could try to get up and walk over there, but being weak and ill made the prospect daunting and if he hurt himself, then Saturday wasn't happening. That was unthinkable.

If it was Kyo or Nikaido calling, then what about? Did something happen? Were they unable to…

He had to find out. He needed his phone. He also needed medication to help him breathe easier.

Iori buzzed for the nurse.

_When they trained together now, Kyo and he tended to fight to a draw. On the rare occasions when either one of them won, they attributed it to their natural ability and also their constant sparring. Kyo, though, Iori noticed, improved quickly and was getting stronger each time. He wasn't sure how that was happening and worked to gain ground on that front._

_ The next time he won, Kyo was amused but unsurprised._

_ "You don't need to catch up with me, Yagami. You already have."_

While the minutes passed, the steady beep of his heart the sole sound in the room, Iori cast his mind back earlier to when this all began. How his life changed during that one confrontation and its follow-up. How he hadn't snarled, huffed, and stalked off like he usually did. Bafflement kept him in place and Kyo had sighed, remarking how dense he was. Emotions unassociated with rage, scorn, and contempt were alien to him – how was he to know what'd occurred?

Kyo usually put no effort into anything past fighting. However, Kyo did maintain a steady relationship with Yuki, the high school girlfriend now woman in the workforce. So Kyo did put effort into something other than his physical prowess in the arena and outside of it.

It explained why Kyo stuck around. Helped him navigate through the currents of this unknown emotion.

Iori wasn't sure if in the process, Kyo's sense of pity changed into something else. If Kyo lost his heart by doing so.

Kyo Kusanagi was readable but still a mystery in his own way.

_Muscles hard from years of fighting and training beneath his hands. Kyo smiled lazily at him. "Don't over-exert yourself. You still have a concert later this afternoon, right?"_

_ He bent his head down to kiss the side of Kyo's neck. "How can I forget with you here?"_

_ The other man laughed, breath against his cheek._

_ Iori smiled._

The nurse – her name was Kaori – flicked on the light and came into the room. She checked his vitals, noticing his breathing as she did, and called for assistance. Soon, help arrived and before Iori knew it, the oxygen machine was beside him and the mask over his face. Kaori made some adjustments to the machine, checked his pulse, and made to leave.

He gestured, quickly and abruptly.

Kaori's eyes glanced in the direction of the stand. He gestured again, mimicking the motions of using a phone. The nurse nodded, retrieved his phone, and placed it into his waiting hand.

"Do you need anything else, Yagami-san?"

He shook his head.

The nurse took another look at his heart monitor, as though reassuring herself that he was fine, and approached the door. Her hand hovered by the light switch.

He nodded.

The light went off, plunging the space into faintly illuminated darkness.

_Kyo laid his head against his chest. He was content, getting sleepy, and wound his arms around his lover's strong back. The other man's hair was soft against his skin and Iori felt the scratchiness of a growing five o'clock shadow._

_ "Good night, Yagami."_

_ "Good night, Kyo."_

It was a text message from Kyo. The timestamp was twelve-fifty and there were attachments. Curious and also concerned, Iori opened his phone directly into the text application and read the brief message. His heart, already taxed and under strain, picked up a frantic rhythm.

_**Found this finally. Maybe you can read the kanji, whatever help it gives you.**_

There were five attachments. Picture files. They all looked similar, but…

He tapped on the first one and enlarged it. Squinted and then alarm shot through him.

This was…this was a diagram of…was it one of the Kusanagi clan's techniques?

Had Kyo found the book? Did that mean he'd gone back to his father's study and…

Twelve-fifty. It was now past one. The diagram was brightly lit, but darkness hovered on the edges and _tatami_ matting was visible in the background. That meant Kyo took the pictures in secret in the dark and used a light source to…

He flipped his phone over. Looked at the flashlight at the top.

Was Kyo safe? Why had he sneaked into his father's study? Why risk himself to…

Iori flipped his phone around and studied the image again. Some of the characters were blurry, but there were others he could read. There was a list of effects, a brief explanation of what the technique did to the human body, and the symbols couldn't be clearer.

These techniques were killing arts.

Anyone struck by these were meant to die.

_Kyo watching him as he played his guitar. The other man tapped his foot, beat accurate._

_ Kyo approaching him as he washed the dishes after lunch. Kyo's hand reaching out to hold his, their soapy fingers entwined around a pair of chopsticks._

The first image wasn't the technique Saisyu used on him. Iori moved onto the next one, trying to calm himself down. He didn't need his heart monitor going into overdrive, alerting the nurse on floor duty, and bringing further unwanted complications. Yet, he couldn't deny that seeing the Kusanagi clan's ultimate killing techniques shook him.

One of the five was the reason he was like this.

He didn't want to know, but then again, he did.

He needed to know which one was killing him – which one Saisyu deployed.

At least he'd have closure, two months after that day.

It wasn't the second one, either. Iori moved to the third.

_"Did you ever think this would happen?"_

_ He glanced at Kyo, reading the question in his eyes. "I don't think any of us anticipated this."_

_ "Our ancestors?"_

_ "Confused as hell. Mine, particularly."_

_ "Mine, too, probably. A Kusanagi and a Yagami. Centuries later."_

_ "The fact that we're together goes against everything we've been taught."_

_ "Well, we learned to move on." Kyo shifted his leg position. "I'd say that's a good thing, right?"_

It wasn't the third or fourth, either. One detail Iori gleaned from reading the characters he could on each diagram was that the Kusanagi clan relied on changing _ki_. Some stopped the flow, thereby creating an instantaneous fatal outcome. Some sent it to the organs, rupturing them. Some burned it out entirely, also resulting in death. But so far, none of them described symptoms like his. A delayed effect and a constant circulation of heat.

He tapped on the fifth image, gripped by a sudden fear.

_He always found Kyo handsome even before he understood his own feelings. The other man was arrogant – not that he wasn't – but it lent him a luster instead. A fascination, which fed his obsession. It all made sense later – three months later – after Kyo explained it to him. After their relationship was underway._

_ Kyo commented on his appearance as well. Aside from his choice of shirts, Kyo seemed to like his hands. Strong hands, Kyo said. Strong but gentle, even though these were the hands that wreaked so much damage in the arena. Hands that killed._

_ Not against Kyo now. Never against Kyo now._

_ It didn't mean they couldn't fight. That he couldn't land blows._

_ But leaving deep wounds or lasting scars was something he tried to prevent. Kyo was precious to him now and he didn't want to mar him._

Iori read the _kanji_ on the final image and fought to keep his breathing under control. The oxygen continued circulating through the mask – he was fine. No need to panic, to remember what'd happened two months ago in his apartment. The characters on the image wouldn't harm him – had no power to do so.

But the effects matched and now he understood exactly what Saisyu did.

His entire body's _ki_ had been rerouted and with the heat, permanently altered and "burned" into place. There was no reversal – it was a killing technique – and Saisyu had sealed off his _ki_ channels in a certain way so that his neck, face, hands, and feet weren't affected. The burns came from excessive heat boiling outward – damage to skin only, but no damage otherwise to other major organs or his blood vessels.

Death was imminent. If it didn't kill immediately, then it was a delayed result.

Iori lowered his phone. Turned it off.

His eyes hurt. They burned. The view from his window was unclear, as though behind mist.

_Kyo observed him, smiled, and ran his fingers through his hair. "You should look more like that, Yagami."_

_ "More like what?" he'd asked, uncertain._

_ "Happy. You look happy."_

_ Happy? Maybe he did feel this way. Whenever Kyo was around, he felt different. In a good way. In a way he hadn't felt in a long time since he was an innocent child._

_ "That's what it is?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ He was happy, then. Was it like when he was playing his music or feeding the cats? No…this went beyond all that. This was…he couldn't find the words for it._

_ "Happy, huh?"_

_ "You're not scowling anymore. Not when I'm here."_

_ Maybe he wasn't. That wasn't a bad thing, either._

_ "I like it when you're like this," Kyo said, closing the short distance between them._

_ For once, Iori agreed. For a change, he liked it, too._


	30. Chapter 30 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 30~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

"What were you doing in my study, Kyo?"

Kyo kept his gaze focused on his father. The desk lamp had been turned on, green glass backlit by warm light. He hadn't waited for Saisyu to pull him out of the tunnel; instead, he'd pocketed his phone and crawled out, aware of how much trouble he was in. Any time now, Uncle Hajime would return with Takeo in tow. His presence in the study was bound to confirm his uncle's suspicions and Kyo expected a tongue-lashing from the two older men.

That would only be the start, though.

His father would want the truth from him. But the truth would kill.

Iori's life was in his hands. If he stepped wrong here, he'd condemn the other man to death. His father wouldn't hesitate and neither would his uncle in following Saisyu's lead. Should he oppose them – he would – his actions would be considered treasonous (if they weren't already) and he'd be marked for the same. It wasn't fair, though, for Iori to carry all the weight. Not in this. Not for something both of them swore commitment to.

Kyo clenched his jaw. Maintained his level stare.

"Silence won't work on me, Kyo. What were you doing in my study?"

His father liked asking questions. If that was the direction this was taking…

"You didn't answer me earlier. About Yagami. Why?"

Pushing his luck. His father's expression darkened in the light being reflected off the wall. "You're in no position to ask."

He didn't miss the omitting of his name. "I've always suspected you knew something, Dad. That you did something to him. That's it, isn't it? You didn't want me to know."

"And if you did, what would you have done, hm?"

Same as he was doing now. Trying to bridge the gap made. Trying to fix the shattering, no matter how insignificant his efforts were. Trying to be there for Yagami, who wasn't going to die abandoned. Somehow, his father's question hardened his resolve.

"You did do something to him, didn't you?"

Not a question. A confirmation – Saisyu's phrasing clarified it for him.

"What if I did? That does not excuse your actions. Your very –"

"How did you hurt him?" He wasn't in the mood for niceties or politeness; neither, he noted, was his father. "Why did you do it?"

Silence. It stretched for several seconds, as if frosted by the first sheen of ice.

"That's why you're here, right? To find out?"

How his father figured out his motive took Kyo aback. Was he probing too much? He couldn't have possibly given himself away just by…

"I'll ask again and I want your answer. What were you doing in my study?"

No way out. His father wasn't giving him one.

Kyo didn't let his gaze waver. "You said I was a liar. So are you. You hurt Iori Yagami and pretended you knew nothing." He saw Saisyu register the deliberate naming of the rival clan's heir and the omittance of being called 'Dad'. "You want answers? So do I. Since you're not giving them to me –"

"You decided to seek them out yourself. A foolish decision, Kyo."

"I was forced to it. By you. You could've given them to me earlier."

Two months before, when he'd asked. He hadn't forgotten.

"Did you find what you're looking for?"

A question asked with deceptive mildness. Wariness enveloped Kyo. He had to be extremely careful here. He also had to maintain eye contact with his father or give himself away. Not far behind him was his father's writing table with its secretive volume hastily bound under it. He couldn't read his father's expression. Didn't know what Saisyu was thinking.

The sliding door opened.

"Hajime-san said that…" Takeo's voice trailed off at the sight of him.

"My brother can join us here. Let him know and you may rest for the night, Takeo."

Takeo did a slight bow and closed the door. His footsteps were light on the wooden floor. After a few seconds, it was quiet.

His father turned back to him. Through the thickness of Saisyu's beard, Kyo glimpsed the tightening of muscles in his father's jaw and cheeks. It was frightening. Shadows flickered around them, cast into darker places by lamplight and the study seemed different now.

He was on trial. No mistake about that.

His father was a judge. Not yet executioner. He was waiting for Uncle Hajime to arrive – to finish this interrogation with him. The change upon the older man was startling – a conclusion reached and a steeling within. To advance to the next step and knowing what it meant, Kyo drew on his own inner strength so that he didn't look away. He couldn't. His own fortitude had to hold, or else all was lost.

Iori, consigned to the flames without even ashes for burial.

Himself, sentenced to death by the clan's ancient regulations. Being heir wouldn't protect him – not if they stripped the title from him first.

Was that his father's intent? Was that why…

Silence stretched long and vast like the corridor outside the room. It deepened with the enduring night, darkness past the still-burning lamps with clan members on guard. Not against anyone from without but from within.

He was the threat. The loose piece. The nail sticking out.

The full weight of the Kusanagi clan's regulations backed by Saisyu's edict was next. He felt it in his bones – a certainty, almost like Iori's uncanny instincts. But Iori's instincts hadn't saved him from Saisyu's vengeance and his own father wasn't shying away from delivering the ultimate penalty.

He couldn't lose here. He _wouldn't_ lose here.

Iori had lost almost everything.

If he failed here – if he couldn't stop this – then everything would end.

At that moment, the sliding door opened again and his uncle's heavy tread marked his entrance into the study. When the door closed and Uncle Hajime stood next to his father, Kyo gathered within himself all he had to maintain resistance. For it was critical now at this point – to do any less would guarantee failure.

He didn't look away. Didn't flinch.

"Takeo told me he was here. Where was he?"

"In the tunnel." Saisyu's voice was hard. "You're right, Hajime."

"What was he here for?"

"Finding answers." His father's dark eyes went cold. "Of a particular sort."

His uncle arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Saisyu strode past him, face set like stone, and Kyo's wariness increased as his father neared the writing table. Without a word, without pause, his father bent, reached under the table, and pulled the book free of its sloppy binding. Turned and thrust the slim volume at him, level to his chest. "You were looking for this, weren't you?"

Kyo remained silent.

"What is that, brother?"

"The ancient killing techniques." Saisyu's tone didn't alter but his father's eyes narrowed, continuing to observe him. "The ones every heir learns when he's ready."

"Your son was looking for that?"

"I assume so, since the binding was tampered with."

Killing techniques. Ancient, to the point where Kyo didn't know them. Killing techniques. Had his father used one against Yagami? If his hunch was correct and this was the book, then his father meant to kill Yagami. Meant to and Iori survived. But he was still going to die because of it – techniques like those weren't for sparing lives – which could only mean one thing.

Either Iori's will to live surpassed the initial fatal strike or…

He recalled the conversation between Uncle Hajime and his father – the one he overheard his first time in the secret tunnel.

Or, his father permitted Iori to live in fear, doubt, and pain because it was a greater show of hostility against their relationship. Against Yagami's apparent error in believing he could have more in life besides rivalry and hatred. Every day Iori lived reminded him of Saisyu's rage.

Of this, Kyo harbored no doubts.

"You were looking for this, weren't you?"

Kyo kept his expression neutral and didn't respond, much like the first time.

His father flipped the book open. The pages made a crisp sound as they turned.

"I know you did, Kyo. You didn't cover your tracks well."

He'd bound the book back under the table, but it'd been untidy. Also, without glancing down at himself, he felt the dust smeared on his body. On his arms and chest. His shirt and shoes were in the archival building. There was probably dust on the _tatami_ matting – could've been what gave him away.

"Why'd you come for this? Whatever made you suspect this?"

Dangerous ground here – a wrong answer and he'd never see Iori again.

"Yagami dropped out of my life. That doesn't happen."

Saisyu flipped another page and Kyo saw one of the diagrams. "Still doesn't explain your suspicions. You believe I did this to him?"

It took everything he had to contain his rage. "Yes, I do."

"Why? You haven't seen the boy since that day."

Another trap laid – caution in his mind as he answered. "One of my friends did."

"And he told you? Why would he do that?"

"Would this friend happen to be Nikaido-san?" Uncle Hajime interjected, giving him a knowing look.

Shit. He didn't want to implicate Benimaru. Bad enough Iori got hurt; Benimaru getting caught by his family's justice would... There were ways to threaten Benimaru and his family without resorting to similar tactics. If his father cut off his contact with Benimaru – thereby, the other members of the Japan Team – then, he truly was alone. Aoi was the exception but she was family. He'd be as stranded as Iori – without ally or friend.

"Well? Is he, Kyo?"

He hadn't taken his eyes off his father. "Benimaru told me, yes."

"Why?"

"I asked him. Our team's familiar with Yagami's usual prowling."

"What did you ask him?"

"If he'd seen Yagami."

"That's it? You're not withholding anything from me, are you?"

"That's all." As for the other things he'd asked Benimaru about and their later conversation with Iori, that was his own business. Nothing his father needed to know.

"What did he tell you?"

"He saw him. I asked what he looked like."

"And?"

"Yagami was ill. Didn't look like he could fight."

"He could just be sick –"

"Timing's odd, isn't it?" His father still pretended he'd no hand in Iori's condition; Kyo refrained from grinding his teeth. "He was healthy before and suddenly, he's sick. Suddenly can't even fight. Doesn't that seem strange?"

"Only if you read into it."

"I know Yagami. He wasn't like this. Before."

Because he'd been watching his father, Kyo saw Saisyu's jaw tighten. The book in his hands closed, the silkbound covers concealing its contents. His father took a step forward. "Bold accusation, son. Do you have any evidence to back it?"

"I couldn't reach Yagami that day. The same day you told me you knew. Why's that?"

"Maybe he was busy."

"Yagami always gets back to me. But he didn't since that day. You did something to him. You're the only one who has any reason to."

"Any Kusanagi standing with the clan would see no wrong with that," his uncle said, tone sharp. "If your father saw reason to deal with Iori Yagami, that's his right."

"What'd he do to deserve it? Killing techniques? You'd kill a man over –"

"He crossed a line."

"What line did he cross?"

"You're a Kusanagi," Saisyu said, drawing his attention away from his uncle. "When he was your rival, that was the natural order – the way it was meant to be. If he'd become your friend, even, it wouldn't merit further notice. But to become your lover?" His father shook his head. "That was the line he crossed. He should've known better."

"That wasn't his choice."

"He's a Yagami with his clan's reputation. Nothing removes or changes that."

"I don't believe it."

"Kyo," his father said, the severity in his voice causing Kyo's jaw to clench, "my study's off limits unless permission's given. What made you think you're exempt?"

Lines crossed. His was more flagrant by far. Yagami's was…

How was that punishable? By death?

"I asked you for answers," he responded, standing his ground. "I needed to know."

"Unbecoming of an heir."

"I wouldn't have done it if you'd just told me."

"Your father's the head patriarch, nephew." Uncle Hajime glowered at him, arms crossed over his chest. "That's at his discretion, not yours."

Kyo was about to fire back a retort – something – when the sliding door opened. Startled, he and his father and uncle turned to face the person who'd interrupted the interrogation. With her hair bound into a bun and her modest long blue robe, it was apparent Shizuka Kusanagi had only received word of this nighttime incident. While her expression was mild – his mother usually looked sweet and reserved – Kyo wondered at her presence here and what it meant.

"Saisyu…since this concerns our son, I should be here, should I not?"

"Shizuka," his father said, uncertainty in his face, "it does not –"

"He's our son, Saisyu. If you're making any judgments, I should be here."

Uncle Hajime opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and glanced at Saisyu in surprise. Whatever his uncle was going to tell his mother or his father, Kyo was glad he didn't. There were certain things one never told Shizuka, and once told, his mother never forgot. For the same reason, there wasn't any opposition from his father towards her unexpected visit. It'd be unwise to, knowing her.

"What were you discussing before I arrived?"

"I…err…our son broke one of the rules."

"Which one?" His mother had slid the door shut and stood a few steps away, harkening back to traditional etiquette, but her gaze was keen.

"He entered my study without permission."

"Kyo…" His mother shook her head in his direction. "That was wrong."

He looked at her, saw the concern in her eyes, and decided to keep peace. Somehow, she was fighting for him. What she'd said wasn't incorrect, either. It was why he sneaked in, after all.

"Why did he do that?"

"He was looking for something."

"Anything in particular, Saisyu?"

"This." His father walked over to Shizuka and held out the clothbound book to her. Recognition lit her eyes. "Leveled an accusation at me."

"What did he accuse you of?"

"He thinks I did something to Iori Yagami."

"Did you?"

Kyo heard his uncle shuffle uncomfortably beside him. Kept his focus fixed on his mother and father. Shizuka's question was asked in a quiet voice, tone serene and yet…there was a slight barb in it. His father tilted his head, as though hearing the same.

"What did you tell him, Saisyu?"

"Even if I did, Shizuka – why does it matter?"

"What crime did that young man commit for you to lay hands on him?"

"Now, wait, Shizuka…I did not –"

"You might be able to pull that on Kyo, Saisyu but not on me. This –" his mother laid her palm on the book in his father's hand, "– was this what you did to Iori Yagami?"

"He transgressed. Had to pay a price for that."

"His life? For love of our son? Saisyu…why?"

"He forgot his place. Who he is. A reminder was needed."

"A reminder," his mother said, hand slipping off the silken cover. She stepped back, away from his father. "Saisyu, that was unnecessary."

"May I remind you, Shizuka, that he's our greatest enemy besides Orochi?"

"He's in love with our son. Why would he continue the feud?"

"The Yagami are devious."

"And we're free from fault? Saisyu…" His mother turned to look at him; Kyo started, surprised. "What judgment were you about to pass?"

"Our son's a traitor, Shizuka."

"A traitor? On what evidence?"

"Aligning himself with Iori Yagami. Going against the clan. Refusal to submit to his elders. Trespassing into my study."

"And for those, you'd kill him? Disown him? What were you thinking, Saisyu?"

"Clan regulations must be followed."

"What were you and your brother going to do, Saisyu? Sentence him without telling me?"

His father fell silent.

At that moment, his uncle stepped forward. "Now, Shizuka-san…we weren't going to do that. But Kyo did offend and –"

"Hajime-san," Shizuka interrupted, "this is between me and my husband and our son. While I understand Saisyu brought you into this, this discussion is only for our family. Kyo, please join us."

Leaving his position next to his uncle, Kyo walked over to where his parents were. His mother gazed at him and then turned to his father. "Saisyu, what were you planning to do with him? He needs to know."

His father looked at him. Kyo stared right back.

"You know about the woman in our clan history, Shizuka."

"She was killed. You were going to do the same? With your own hands?"

"If he continued to be incorrigible, then, yes."

With tremendous effort, Kyo struggled to remain calm. His father would've executed him – would he have been an unfortunate recipient of one of those techniques? – mourned, and then moved on. Two deaths, then, at his hands. Iori was the first; he'd have been the second. There was no forgiveness, unless he bent his head in submission and disavowed Yagami. Since that wasn't happening – would never happen – the consequence was clear.

"You think I wouldn't fight back?"

"You'd lose, son, against so many."

"Enough," his mother said, putting an end to that part of the discussion. "Saisyu, you are not to do anything unless you run it by me."

His father didn't reply.

His uncle, staying silent behind them, continued doing so.

"Kyo, there are rules you cannot break. Entering your father's study is not permitted."

"I got my answers. Most of them."

"Even so."

He knew without a shadow of a doubt now that his father was responsible for Iori's crisis. That Iori would die – no hope there – and his initial gut instinct regarding the situation was correct. He'd just never been able to get a straight answer until tonight. Until he forced the issue. Until his mother stepped in, concerned for his safety, and pulled those answers from his father without effort. Now that he knew, seeing Yagami in two days was even more crucial.

He wanted to see him. To speak to him. To hold him. To let him know he was with him and would never leave. That he'd stay by him until the end.

He'd told him that. He wasn't about to break his promise.

"Kyo, it's late. Go get some sleep."

He nodded at his mother and made to leave, moving towards the sliding door.

"Wait."

Saisyu's voice behind him, tone steely. Kyo turned, glimpsed the quick questioning glance Shizuka threw at Saisyu, and then focused on his father.

"You're still going out Saturday, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said, wariness returning.

"I'm curious about your recent excursions, so I'll be joining you."

It felt like a gut punch, debilitating simply from being dropped on him out of nowhere. "What?"

"You're just meeting your friends, right? So there shouldn't be any problems."

Yagami. He was seeing Yagami. If his father…if he knew…if he saw… "No," he managed to say, trying not to strangle on the word. "It's…it's fine."

He couldn't even cancel. Iori didn't have much time left. If he didn't…

"I look forward to it. You stay here tomorrow, though, Kyo."

His mind spun. Did his father suspect something? Did he inadvertently let something slip?

"Like your mother said, it's late. Good night, Kyo."


	31. Chapter 31 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 31~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

Anger lent him strength, which was what he needed right now.

"You can't hold me here! I insist on leaving. Today."

"Yagami-san, the doctor needs to see you. You cannot go until then."

"I can't stay here! There's a place I have to be!" Glaring at the nurses had no effect despite his best efforts to be fierce. Whether it was because he was ill or the staff had seen his like before, the women didn't quail at his temper. One of them, though, had run off to find the head nurse. If the doctor needed to see him, Iori hoped he made it quick. He'd slept through most of the morning and mid-afternoon and if he didn't leave soon, he'd never make it to the park.

He was going straight there, having only enough stamina for one trip.

Missing the "meeting" wasn't an option.

His muscles ached – whatever was left of them – and his vision blurred from time to time. He had a ferocious headache with sharp stabs of pain in the back of his skull and his body kept fluctuating between chills and sweating. The back of his throat itched – coughing up blood was the norm now – and he supposed he looked dreadful, because the nurses didn't want him to leave. Yet, he had to. He couldn't stay here.

The head nurse strode into the room, met his defiant gaze and held it.

"Yagami-san, keep your voice down. You're disturbing the other patients."

Was he? He was being a nuisance, wasn't he?

"I demand to be released. You cannot –"

"So I was told. After the doctor sees you."

"Will he refuse to release me?" The question was pointed; Iori was in no mood for idle chatter. "I'm not getting better. You know that."

"You're malnourished and have a fever. There might be other complications."

Other complications. They'd only removed the oxygen mask an hour ago and soon after, his coughing fits began anew. The lingering taste of iron remained in his mouth, on his teeth, and in his throat. Ointment had been applied to his healing burns, which had troubled him before. The area around his sternum hurt, as if channeling all his discomfort there. He'd been drenched in the rainstorm and fractures always reacted to a change in weather. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, seeping into the hospital gown he wore.

Complications. A nice way to phrase the harsh reality facing him.

"I'm dying. There's no reason to keep me here."

One of the nurses went wide-eyed at his blatant statement, glancing at the head nurse in charge. The older woman – middle-aged, gray starting at the edges of her dark hair – fixed him with a quelling look. Iori didn't look away. He didn't feel like submitting to her authority in this, not when it concerned him. He knew himself best – knew what the outcome would be.

"That's what we're here for, Yagami-san."

"You can't fix me. It's pointless. Let me leave."

"After."

"It'll happen?" He needed her guarantee. He didn't want to find out later it was all a ruse. "I'll be allowed to leave? Once he's done?"

"Yes. We don't recommend it, but –"

"Then get him over here. I don't want to wait."

"He's seeing other patients right now." The head nurse's expression didn't change. "He'll get to you soon, Yagami-san. Please wait."

He scowled, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Besides, his head hurt and with his anger spent, he was tired. The nurses approached him with caution and when he didn't react, they replaced his bedding, cleaned him as best they could, and resettled him into fresh sheets. One of them gave him medication for his breathing; another checked his fluids bag, and the head nurse supervised. When complete, he was left to himself in peace and quiet, broken only by the familiar sound of the heart monitor.

It sounded less steady than before, which wasn't a surprise.

He was weaker. He only hoped he could last until…

Iori coughed. Blood flecks spattered the clean sheets. His lungs burned, heat like acid, and a shudder jolted the entire length of his body. Desperate, he reached for rage – anything giving him strength – but fresh pain greeted him instead as his hands clenched, driving nails deep into flesh. Blood spilled from his palms, staining the bedspread crimson. He uncurled his fingers, extracting his nails and stared at the new wounds.

At this rate…

He wasn't going to think like that. He couldn't.

He was going to force his broken weary body to move, to head outside, to walk until he hit the park. Then, if it wanted to drop, he'd let it, so long as he awoke the next morning.

He wasn't going to die. Not yet. Not until…

The sky outside his window was high and clear, blue and wisped by clouds. An ideal day for sparring, or it would've been if he was still capable of doing so. Gold glowed on the edges of the window frame, sunlight lending the environment beyond the walls considerable warmth. He wanted to be there – to bask in the light, to breathe the air.

Soon. It'd be soon.

He just needed to wait.

* * *

"Yagami-san, I'd advise against your plans for an early leave. With your current condition, it'd be detrimental."

"Tell me something I don't already know, doctor."

The older man frowned at his tone. "You have a serious case of malnutrition. Are you aware of your current weight?"

Iori hesitated, unsure if he wanted it confirmed.

"If you leave, you will continue losing weight. The effects will be irreversible."

"They already are," he said, voice quiet and low.

"Yagami-san, you currently weigh in at fifty-eight kilograms. Anymore and you will –"

"I'll die anyway." A killing technique was used against him. Nothing the hospital did would ever reverse that, or cancel its purpose. Saisyu meant for him to die. "Your concern is warranted, but it doesn't matter."

"We still may be able to –"

"It'll be a waste of time." He looked at the doctor, at his wrinkles and anxious gaze, and overrode whatever the other man would've said. "Use it for someone else."

"Yagami-san –"

"Is there anything else I need to know? Any further examinations?"

"Your consistent coughing and the blood –"

"My lungs are fucked up. Is that it?"

"I wouldn't have phrased it like that, but yes."

"Then it's already too late." Everything was already advanced to the final stage. Trying to change it now was useless. "Let me go, doctor. There's no point in keeping me here."

"Do you need any assistance?"

"No."

Iori saw the other man's frown deepen, as if unsettled by his attitude. Not many patients, he concluded, refused aid or ongoing medical intervention. Then again, not many patients were struck with an ancient technique meant to disrupt life in the worst possible way. Most patients weren't eager to leave if their conditions crippled them. With his coughing fits, persistent aches and chills, and multiple other issues, just getting to the front desk to sign out would be a trial.

He was going to do it, though.

He had no choice.

Fifty-eight kilos. Two or three days. His time was running out.

"I'll have one of the nurses help you. Will you be able to stand?"

"I'm not leaving in a wheelchair."

"Can you get out of bed, Yagami-san?"

That was the first difficulty. If he couldn't do that, then everything else was moot. His muscles weren't as strong as they used to be. Since he was malnourished, he could guess why. Raising himself on his arm, which trembled, Iori pushed himself upward and then tried using his other arm. His body shook and sweat poured down. Clenching his teeth, cursing inwardly at his weakness, he caught himself before he could fall flat on his face. The pillow was there, but that was beside the point.

"Yagami-san…"

"I can do it, doctor." The back of his throat itched; he suppressed the cough. "Where are my clothes?"

"On the chair by the wall."

"I need them." He wasn't leaving dressed in his hospital gown.

"Yagami-san, if you need a hand –"

"I don't." He had to do this by himself, or he wasn't doing it at all. Exhausted as he was, his body was going to obey and fulfill this last requirement. "My clothes."

While the other man walked towards the chair behind him, Iori exerted the remnants of his strength and managed to turn himself over. The heart monitor continued beeping, pace speeding up, and he labored to breathe. This time, when the coughing started, he couldn't stop. Scarlet stained his hand, over the half-moon cuts in his palm.

"I'll –"

He waved the doctor aside, struggling to regain his breath. The effort was strenuous; he found himself closing his eyes as the strain tensed the muscles around his sternum. Fire in his veins, in his lungs, coursing through him and another violent shudder set him trembling.

"Yagami-san, I don't think you can –"

"I will."

There was no reconsideration here. Not now. Not ever.

He waited for the worst to pass, smeared the blood from his hand onto the flimsy gown, and placed his palm against the blanket. The doctor, scrutinizing his every move, placed his clothes beside him. His button-down dress shirt. His jeans. They were wrinkled and dirty. It didn't matter.

Next to him, the older man called for the nurse on his floor. Iori raised a brow.

"Your IV drip. We need to remove it."

After a few minutes, a young woman entered the room. While the doctor explained what she was to do, Iori took his shirt in hand. His fingers were so thin – skeletal – and his nails were brittle. It was just as well he wore his rings; he'd have lost them, otherwise. What depressed him was his grip strength – he had to try to maintain a hold. He no longer found it easy even keeping his fist closed.

If he allowed himself to dwell on it, then he'd…

He put that grief aside. There were other matters of importance to focus on.

With a murmured apology, the nurse approached him and began to remove the drip apparatus from his hand. Iori watched her, aware of the boiling heat and icy cold within him, and fought to keep from shaking as she completed her task with competence. No more needles. No more tubes and machines. He was on his own, as he always intended.

"Do you need help getting dressed?"

He shook his head.

"Let me remove your gown."

It was fastened from behind. Acquiescing, Iori bowed his head and stared at the clean tile floor. He felt the tie loosen. The nurse came back within his field of vision, which blurred at that moment.

"Please hold out your arms, Yagami-san."

He did, wincing as the scar tissue at his elbows stiffened. Within seconds, his gown was off, leaving him sitting on the bed in just his boxers.

"Do you need anything else?"

He didn't. He glanced up at her, then, and from the softening in her face, his expression must've made it clear.

"It's okay, Tanaka-san. I'll take over from here. Thank you."

The nurse did a slight bow to the doctor, gave him one final look, and left.

The doctor turned back to him. "Yagami-san…"

"I'll manage on my own." His throat tightened. "There's nothing else you can do."

"I could try."

"You can't." It was futile – it always was. Rare for him, he was grateful but the words refused to come out. He'd never been good with expressing thanks.

Doctor Yamashita would've understood. Would've stopped trying once it became obvious he was beyond hope. Without words left to say, Iori began the slow and painful process of dressing himself. The shirt, once his size, was too large. It draped over bony shoulders, sleeves spilling past scarred arms. His waist was scrawny, unable to hold up his pants. Improvising, he shredded the edge of his shirt and secured his jeans with a makeshift belt.

All the while, the doctor watched him, silent and still.

He forced his feet into his shoes, took a deep breath – his throat tickled – and pushed himself away from the bed. Stumbling into the wall closest to the stand holding his belongings, Iori braced himself using his forearm. His breaths came in hurried gasps, sweat dripped down his face, and his vision went in and out. He closed his eyes. Tried to slow the beating of his heart.

"Yagami-san…"

"I…" He could do this. He could. "Is there an elevator on this floor, doctor?"

"There is."

He nodded. Couldn't do much more than that.

"I can help you get there."

"How far is it?" His voice sounded distant. Faint.

"Just down the hall. To your left."

"I…" His heart wouldn't stop pounding. Had he overdone it this time? "I'll…get there…myself."

Once he got himself under control. Once he could move again.

Iori kept his eyes closed. Recalled his days of training, brutal as they were. His breathing exercises. His cool-downs. Remembered and applied them, regulating his breaths. He wasn't a fighter anymore, but those practices still had their uses.

He wasn't sure how much time passed when he next opened his eyes. The doctor was still there, observing him. He felt better now. Could move without passing out. Quickly, before he lost this tiny bit of strength, he grabbed his keys and wallet. His phone wasn't there. Where'd he put it? He needed it – couldn't leave without it.

"Are you looking for something, Yagami-san?"

"My phone."

The other man strode over, checked the stand and went towards the bed. Flipped the bloodstained sheets back and made an affirmative sound. "You left it here." The doctor took a hold of the device, walked over, and handed it to him. "You sure you don't need help?"

"I'll manage."

He pocketed the phone in his loose jeans and staggered towards the door.

Left without looking back.

* * *

If it wasn't for the elevator, he'd probably be half-dead by now. Even getting there nearly killed him and on the way down, Iori leaned into the corner, head flung back against the wall. He was a trembling broken wreck, and when the elevator pinged ground floor, he stumbled out. People gasped in horror around him, patients and staff alike. Ignoring them, Iori angled for the front desk. The girl sitting there stared, wide-eyed, as if uncertain to call for security or for a doctor.

"I'm…" He swallowed, throat dry. "I'm checking…out."

"Ah…you are…"

"Iori…Ya…Yagami."

The keyboard clacked beneath the girl's swift fingers. "Iori Yagami. Third floor, room five?"

He nodded. It was the third floor. He hadn't noticed his room number.

"Yagami-san…does the doctor –"

"Yes."

The girl bit her lip. She had short-cropped black hair, lashes thick with mascara, and lips painted red with gloss. She was young – probably younger than him – and he was frightening her. Without delay, she got his paperwork on the counter, ready to sign. There was a ballpoint pen chained to the clipboard. He picked it up, hand shaking.

It was a release form with notice of waiver and so-on-and-so-forth. He gave it a quick skim and scrawled his signature, _kanji_ messy. Pushed the clipboard back at her, heard the quick sharp taps as she inputted the information, and told him it was done.

He left, almost colliding with people on his way out. Somehow, he stayed on his feet.

When he approached the sliding glass doors, he averted his gaze. Didn't want to see his reflection – didn't want to know.

Then, he was outside. The last rays of sunlight. Fresh air. Open space.

There was a taxi. Traffic was busy. He took it.

* * *

By the time he reached the park, twilight painted the sky an array of colors amidst a deepening night. His wallet was empty – the last of it paid the taxi driver's fee – and his phone battery was dying. Iori shut his phone's power off, conserving whatever was left. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything today, but as usual, didn't feel hungry. Thirst, he could deal with later. This was a park. They had water fountains here.

However, more urgent than food and drink was sleep. Relief from pain.

There were quiet sections in the park. Areas away from the crowd.

Iori headed in the direction of a secluded bench, hidden behind foliage and well-placed trees and bushes. No one would disturb him here. He could sleep in peace, awaiting tomorrow. His gait was awkward, temperature uncomfortable, and his shivering was uncontrollable. Already, his shirt sleeves were bloodstained – he kept coughing – and something was wrong with his eyes. He was afraid – none of the signs were good – but he'd already made it this far.

Soon. And then…

He lay down on the bench, pillowing his head on his folded arms.

Closed his eyes.

* * *

**Comments**: Iori's current weight is 58 kilograms (about 127-128 lbs.). In Chapter 20, he was 62 kilograms (136 lbs). 54 kilograms (120 lbs.) or below will lead to death. His official weight was 76 kilograms (168 lbs.), referenced again for comparison.


	32. Chapter 32 (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 32~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

Kyo was on edge. Had been since yesterday.

Being confined at home was punishment enough; yet, his father compounded it by keeping him on constant surveillance. There were clan members outside his door, outside his window, one in his bedroom, and if he needed to use the bathroom, someone waited for him in the hallway. He wasn't given any free time to himself, which increased his anxiety and disallowed him from contacting Iori and Benimaru about the sudden change in circumstance. Not even his mother could gainsay his father on this – he'd broken trust and therefore, was considered untrustworthy.

Mealtimes were tense, silence falling cold and sharp between sparse bits of conversation. He'd eaten quickly and escaped, trading one confinement for another. He'd sooner deal with one of the many unknown members of the clan than sit across from Uncle Hajime and his father. Particularly, his father.

He'd spent his previous afternoon calling Yuki because Saisyu insisted. Was summoned to his father's study and under his watchful gaze, was told what to do. Instead of arguing, he did it, knowing all the while Yuki wouldn't pick up. She didn't. All his calls went straight to voice mail; whether because she was busy or just ignored him, the outcome was the same. After half an hour of that, his father relented and released him.

Uncle Hajime had been waiting for him in the hall, but hadn't said anything to him.

That was fine. He wasn't in a talkative mood, either.

Rather, he was worried. Worried and paranoid.

This felt much like the day his father told him he knew about his and Iori's relationship. The vibe was similar, and the fallout had been catastrophic. If his father suspected something was up – had plans of his own – then the possibility of being blindsided was high.

Too high.

Benimaru didn't know. He'd no idea how his friend would react to seeing his father there.

Iori? His lover was terrified of his father. If Yagami saw Saisyu there…

Would he turn and run? Fight? Or just stay where he was, uncertain of how to react?

The entire Japan Team would be at the park, with Goro left in the dark as to recent developments. Not including him, the Kusanagi clan would be represented by his father, his uncle, and another stalwart clan member. Iori would be by himself, the only living member of the Yagami clan left.

All of them – minus Goro – had a part to play in this. Either nothing would happen or…

Or his father had plans and things were going to end badly.

Kyo cracked his knuckles and glanced at the other people on the train. His father, sitting across from him, never once removed his gaze. There wasn't anything Kyo could do anyway – Uncle Hajime sat next to him, the guard to his prisoner. He didn't recognize the third clan member. Just knew he was some distant cousin. This cousin of his leaned against the wall by the nearest door, as though blocking an escape route. Boxed in from all sides, Kyo could only sit and observe his fellow passengers.

The standing salaryman reading a newspaper, briefcase by his feet.

The girl with her phone – a charm dangling from it – with her finger flicking upward, as though browsing websites.

A little boy asleep next to his mother, who had her nose buried in a book.

A young couple sitting side-by-side, shy and awkward and obviously new to their relationship. The girl blushed; the boy kept glancing at her. Kyo looked away, remembering when he was new to relationships. The first time he saw Yuki in high school and the day he approached her, asking if he could date her. He'd been unsure then as well and bracing against rejection. How he felt when she accepted. What it was like when they went out, enjoyed movies and had dinner together. Her smiles when he got gifts for her from abroad. The time spent in her company.

It'd been great, then, and he never thought it'd end.

But it did, and the cause was his relationship with Iori.

While both he and Yagami had girlfriends before – Iori wasn't inexperienced on that front, either – Kyo realized early on that he was the emotional anchor for the other man. Iori had tried having relationships before but also lost them. He hadn't asked – wasn't his business – as to how those ended. Besides, both of them were adjusting to the oddity of being lovers after being life-long enemies and rivals and that…well, that took time.

About a month, if he recalled correctly.

In that time, Iori had been confused. Hadn't reckoned with the newfound emotional toll and weight. It was different, Yagami had said, compared to his girlfriends. For one, he hadn't hated those women. There was no prior history, no blood feud, nothing. Second, he'd felt more strongly about Kyo than he had them. Why? Kyo laid it out for him – obsession for so many years, plus clashing in the tournaments. Hatred was a strong emotion, after all. It was bound to spill over in another way.

It explained, in part, why Iori loved so fiercely.

It also was reasonable to consider their relationship new ground – besides the obvious – since they had to relearn each other. Their first few conversations felt strange; it took time to reshape their usual sniping into something less barbed. Not everything changed, but some things did. Fighting became sparring and all the physical contact led to the next step. Their first time together past the kisses was uncomfortable and Kyo never saw Iori turn that shade of red before. It was an aspect they had to learn together like everything else.

In the end, they were just another new couple. Familiar acquaintances, fledging lovers.

But in becoming so, he lost the relationship he already had.

Kyo looked at the young man and woman again. The girl rested her head against the boy's shoulder. Yuki had done that before. The boy looked at his phone but was smiling. That was him once, too. Long time ago until recently. They could've been like this had he kept silent – would've sat like this on a different train on another day, looking like a perfect young couple.

His phone was in his jacket pocket. He didn't need to look at the time.

Iori resting on the couch, face calm in sleep after an all-day concert.

The other man's back against his, warm and strong.

The expression on Iori's face shifting from mute surprise to faint pleasure when Kyo commented on his hands one afternoon. Iori's hands mattered – for fighting and for music. Large, decently-muscled, fingers long and callused, and each with a network of fine scars. Those hands were also capable of other things, which was unsurprising considering Iori's dating history.

Sunlight shifted in the train. Kyo turned and looked behind him. Through the window, the familiar cityscape mellowed, light lending warmth to the atmosphere. Not a single rain cloud threatened the sky, which was high, clear, and blue, and there was a mild breeze that banished humidity. Altogether a fine day, except for the fact that his father accompanied him.

His throat closed tight. He tried not to let his thoughts show on his face.

Were his friends already at the park? Was Yagami there as well?

If they were, then once he arrived, he needed to…

He had to find Iori. The question was how? With his guardians and father hanging around, shaking them off his trail would be impossible. He needed to confer with Benimaru as well – see if he located Yagami – and then either disappear or give a plausible reason to.

Mistrust of the other clan members sank into his gut. Something was amiss.

If they realized what was up, and found Iori first…

Kyo had no doubts whatsoever how that'd end. Iori wasn't in any condition to fight, let alone fend off two or three Kusanagi clan members. His uncle wanted Yagami dead. If his father had figured out this was pre-arranged, then Iori wouldn't die immediately. Torching someone to nothing took time, a lot of skilled practitioners, and plenty of open space to create an immolating flame. But none of that precluded possible breaking of bones or worse.

As weak as Iori was, the other man still had a fighter's reflexes. He wasn't going down without a struggle, which meant if his clan found him first…

He'd suffered enough.

Kyo didn't want to see him hurting anymore.

Just as he turned back, the intercom on the train chimed in, announcing arrival at the next station. It was their stop. Across from him, Saisyu shifted, planting both feet on the floor of the train compartment. Next to him, Uncle Hajime uncrossed his arms. His cousin pushed off the wall, standing straight beside the door. While the other passengers leaving at this stop also grabbed bookbags, purses, or put away their phones, Kyo found his family's actions purposeful.

Purposeful and ominous.

He unwound himself, playing at casualness, hiding his anxiety.

Sharks smelled blood in water. If he let it show, then his father would know.

It'd be over before they even hit the park.

As the train pulled into the station, Kyo was on his feet along with many other passengers. His father came to stand beside him and with Uncle Hajime nearby, he was flanked. His distant cousin gave him a cool gaze; Kyo ignored him. Today, none of the others wore any insignia declaring their clan. Saisyu forewent the usual kimono, exchanging it for a short-sleeved T-shirt, pants, and walking sneakers. His uncle and cousin followed suit and while that wasn't strange – the weather was great outside – Kyo wondered if it was for mobility's sake.

Easier to fight without additional clothing hampering movement.

Or, easier to take someone unawares by not declaring clan allegiance.

It was just tightening the knot in his stomach. They were here, needed to walk a short distance, and then he wasn't sure what would unfold. Hoped the rest of the Japan Team would assist, if need be.

He couldn't do it alone. Not if he also needed to watch out for Iori.

The train stopped. The doors opened. Following the flow of traffic, Kyo stepped out onto the platform. His uncle stuck close to him, as if able to read his mind. His father and cousin joined them and along with everyone else, began to depart for their exits. His father led in front, his cousin was behind him, and his uncle still stayed beside him. A triangular formation meant to keep him boxed in. After his shenanigans in his father's study, none of them took any chances.

It all meant a possible confrontation.

If. If things went to hell and he had to…

He was getting ahead of himself. It didn't have to turn out that way. He was only worrying himself by imagining worst-case scenarios. They weren't even at the park, yet.

"Kyo," his father said, breaking the flow of his thoughts, "what are you thinking?"

Nothing. Nothing his father needed to know.

"It's been a while since I've sparred with Beni and Goro outside." Divert the direction of the conversation. He wasn't Aoi, but dammit if he couldn't do this much. "Why are you asking?"

"You've been silent the whole time."

"And that's a problem?"

"It's not like you, son." Was his father hinting at something? "Concerns me."

Well, it concerned him now, too. Paranoia bit again, gnawing at the possibilities in his brain. What did his father know and how did he…if he even did. Not knowing what his father knew, or having an angle of attack for it just…

Iori would've figured it out by now. How to approach this.

He didn't have any counter to Saisyu's last statement. Decided not to respond.

Saisyu's gaze fixed on him for a few seconds longer than he liked before his father looked away. Kyo felt vulnerable, besieged, and floundering in undercurrents he barely understood. Being a fighting champion was nothing if he couldn't combat this. His elders were more experienced in this aspect; he was the green one here.

They continued walking, silence falling over them like a shroud. Having reached their exit, they left the station behind and directed their footsteps towards the park. Kyo knew the park. Had been there before. While it had open spaces for the general public to stroll through and amusements for kids to play on, it also had secluded spots. He understood Iori well enough by now – the other man had mentioned being able to see Kyo, but Kyo not being able to see him – to realize where the other might be situated.

The only problem was there were several spots like that scattered throughout the park. He and his friends could stroll through, but…

He couldn't leave at every change of location. That'd be suspicious.

Neither could he send Beni off, or even Goro. Goro knew nothing and since he didn't want to implicate Beni, having him disappear in intervals would be weird as well.

Which meant…

Which meant he had to find a moment to vanish. Vanish and never come back, since he'd have absconded with Iori by then. The uproar when his father and uncle realized that would be…

Their lives were forfeit at the moment of discovery.

He had to be fast. Find him quick and get the hell outta there.

After some time, Kyo saw the park. The well-tended foliage, the spots of grass in the designed landscape, the colors where the climbing apparatuses for the kids were, and the scattering of water fountains discernable by the multiple small rainbows in the air. As they got closer, he also noticed Benimaru and Goro standing by the nearest fountain. Benimaru's hair was down and his clothing was casual, fit for May weather. Goro wore sandals and had a T-shirt and pants on. His signature headband was nowhere in sight.

Kyo couldn't break free from the formation surrounding him. The men around him refused to yield. He only hoped Beni wouldn't overreact to seeing his father. There was so much that could give them away. All of them, except Goro.

They drew nearer and Beni saw him. Noticed Saisyu as well and something stirred in his face – the slightest flicker – before it went away in the next instant. He hoped his father hadn't seen it – had been distracted by the crowd. Anything to steer away his razor-sharp focus.

"Kyo!" His friend stepped forward. "Glad you made it!"

He advanced past his uncle. Uncle Hajime didn't stop him. Good. If he had, Kyo wouldn't have hesitated in elbowing his way past. "As if I'd pass up the chance!" Just play along for now – pretend he was only here for this. "Daimon! How's your family?"

"Doing well. How are you, Kyo?"

"Fine." Not really, but the less Goro knew, the better. "You ready to spar?"

The bigger man chuckled. "Ready when you are."

Beni gave him the briefest of glances. Kyo saw it but didn't acknowledge it. Not yet. "Let's get away from the crowd. Over there," he said, pointing at a patch of untaken grass. "Won't set it on fire, I promise."

"You always say that," Beni retorted, the levity in his voice undercutting his sarcasm.

"Mean it this time."

"Before we do, I need to piss. You?"

Oh, sneaky. "Now that you mention it, yeah. Been holding it in on the train."

"Not good for you. Come on."

He didn't look at his father, uncle, or cousin. If they were going to follow him, there wasn't anything he could do to stop them. The restrooms were in the main public building. Walking alongside Benimaru, he kept his eyes forward. Didn't glance to either side or behind him. Less suspicious that way. Also, if he was keeping up the pretense of being here just to hang with friends, why would he be worried about someone tailing him?

Once they got inside and within the restroom, which was fortunately empty, Beni strode past the urinals and went into the larger stall. Kyo took a quick glance around and followed him inside. Then, he realized Beni wasn't joking about needing to piss, so he looked away.

"Why's your dad here?"

"I don't know." Good to know Beni was asking the same question. "He dropped it on me two days ago."

"Why?"

"Hell should I know?" That was the problem. He didn't understand why. "I didn't say anything that could've –"

"Kyo, does he know?"

"He shouldn't. I didn't let anything slip."

"What if he just suspects? Because."

"Because what?"

His friend finished his business and zipped up. "Weird, isn't it? He just suddenly decides to join you. Why now? Why today?"

His gut sank. Something was wrong. Something was… "You don't mean –"

"Kyo, if he knows…"

"Yagami." Kyo looked at Benimaru and saw the same realization strike him. "He's not…he won't…"

"Shit. If he does…what the hell are you gonna do?"

"You know where he is, Beni?"

"We only got here a few minutes before you did. Would've looked odd if we disappeared."

"I need to find him."

"And then?"

"I won't be back, Beni. It won't be safe."

Benimaru stilled across from him. Went silent for a few seconds. "You realize –"

"I know. I can't leave him. Not this time."

"And Yuki?"

"She knows. We're done. She broke up with me."

His friend winced. Put his hand over his eyes. "Kyo, that's…" Benimaru sighed. "You need any help? Distractions?"

"If you can. Be careful, Beni. It'll be dangerous."

"They won't –"

"I know." Kyo headed for the stall door. "Thanks, Beni. I need to go."

"Daimon?"

"Tell him something. Dunno what. He's not a part of this, Beni."

Silence.

"Stay safe, Kyo. You and Yagami both."

Yagami was dying, but Beni didn't have to know that truth. "Thanks. We'll need it."

He opened the stall door, exited the restroom, and bolted out one of the side doors. Edged around the building to catch a glimpse of the other Kusanagi clan members. Immediately straightened, a frisson of alarm going off in his head. When they'd entered, there had been three: his father, uncle, and cousin. Now, he only saw two. His father and cousin.

Where was his uncle?

_Shit, no! Did he already…was he…_

Did his uncle – his father? – have the same idea? Find Yagami? Which meant his father knew? Or suspected? Which meant…

Shit! He didn't have time to ponder. If Uncle Hajime got to Iori first…

Kyo broke into a run, veering away from the wide open space. Iori was a solitary type – preferred the quieter places. Some place where Kyo couldn't see him. Foliage. Trees. Bushes. Hidden areas in the cool shade. Start looking there. He had to search and fast. He couldn't let Uncle Hajime beat him to the punch on that, because…

Iori wan and sweating, weak and exhausted on the couch.

The other man weeping against his shoulder, burdens too heavy to bear.

The expression of grief and suppressed desire etched in Iori's face that day. The day he couldn't remain behind with him. The day they finally met up after their forced absence.

Iori wasn't dying today. Not from Uncle Hajime, his father, or his clan.

_Goddammit. Where are you, Yagami?_

The first location he sought sheltered an elderly couple under some trees. They glanced at him as he approached, conversation interrupted. He apologized and sped off.

Wondered where his father and cousin were. Had they realized his disappearance and started looking for him? If so, he needed to move faster. Was Benimaru causing some commotion? Giving some reason for his sudden vanishing act? Would it even work?

_I know he's here. He wouldn't miss it. He…_

Location number two was vacant. There was a stone bench, but it was unoccupied without any sign of personal belongings. A spot no one decided to use yet.

The sun was hitting its zenith. Rising high and bringing the incoming noon heat.

Kyo wiped the sweat off his face. Continued searching.

Number three was taken by a gaggle of girls chatting and exchanging pictures on their phones. They exclaimed at his entrance. This time, he didn't apologize. Just ran out of there, swearing under his breath.

The more time he wasted, the more likely his uncle…

Uncle Hajime despised him. Despised and hated Iori despite Kyo's insistence that the other meant no harm. He was wasting time and his uncle was probably doing the same as him. Only, if his uncle discovered Iori before he did, there wouldn't be any mercy. What could Yagami do in his state against a man fully intent on inflicting additional pain? Death?

_Come on, Yagami. Give me a sign you're here._

He continued looking. Empty spots and taken benches. Lovers, friends, schoolkids, men and women by themselves reading or enjoying the breeze. No sign of Yagami. Not in this area. The park was large, but not that big. Kyo abandoned the fruitless search and went elsewhere.

_"Kyo Kusanagi!"_ His father bellowing out his name.

He didn't look back. Didn't want to risk it.

Crossed the grounds, ran straight ahead and encountered his cousin.

The younger man shifted into a firm stance, hands extended for battle. His jaw was set, chin jutting out and the furrow between his brows deepened, emphasizing deep-set eyes. "Don't do this, cousin."

He barely knew the guy. Didn't even know his name. "Get out of my way."

"You're making us lose face. Causing a ruckus."

Kyo didn't want to hear any nonsense about disturbing the peace or harmony or the usual social norms right now. He wanted this cousin of his out of his face, and who exactly was causing a commotion at this moment? His cousin was looking for a fight, not him. Sure, he could try to go around, but that'll have the other man at his back and that was an amateur's mistake.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way. _Now._"

His cousin's jaw clenched tighter. His foot moved forward.

If that was the way he wanted it…

Kyo rushed ahead, already flowing into his well-ingrained footwork. Sliding into position, he met his cousin in the middle, stringing into the first of his punches. The other man blocked and then tried to counter with his own. Big mistake. Parrying his cousin's punch aside, he landed his second blow right into the other man's gut, doubling him over. His third and last cracked square into his cousin's left temple. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, the man dropped at his feet.

There was a presence behind him and then something else.

His sixth sense went off, alert at full blast.

He jumped, feet clearing the ground.

A tremor shook the ground, rattling small pebbles. Around him, people cried out in terror and there was a sound of someone falling. His father's voice splitting the air with a curse. Landing back on both feet, Kyo took off, dashing away from his unconscious cousin. Daimon had bought him some time – no one else could've done that – and his friend didn't even have to.

He wasn't sure what story Beni told him, but it didn't matter.

His teammates were helping him. That was enough.

_Yagami! Where the hell are you?_

He'd spent precious minutes fighting his cousin and in that interim, much could've happened. His uncle could've come across Yagami, could've…. Kyo gritted his teeth, banished the thought, and sprinted into the other side of the park. It was quieter here, cooler, and plenty of foliage shrouded the landscape in different shades of green.

Iori wouldn't miss this. He was punctual. If he wasn't on the other side, then…

He was here. Had to be.

The question was where?

He began searching as he had on the other side, swift and thorough. Water jetted from fountains behind him in the distance – he could hear them – and then the sounds disappeared when he ducked deeper into the secret areas of the park. Empty benches. The odd couple or person in a clearing by themselves. He moved on, continued looking, going from place to place until…

Until he ran into a small secluded space with a lone bench. He would've passed by, but for the fact that the dirt and grass here was flattened. He smelled the telltale stench of burnt hair and flesh. Felt his skin prickle, goosebumps rising. It was here. A closer look at the bench revealed bloodstains, some scarlet and wet and others dried rust-brown.

Yagami had been here. Where was he now?

And why the odor of charred…

He glanced off to the side and shuddered.

Marks in the grass. As though someone had been dragged on the ground through to the other…

Kyo clenched his jaw – his teeth hurt – and burst through the bushes, following the trails carved in the grass and dirt. Stopped as though jerked to a halt, a string yanking him to standstill.

Iori lying on his back, one feeble hand wrapped around Uncle Hajime's arm.

Uncle Hajime's hands around Iori's throat.

Blood on his uncle's torn sleeve. Scorch marks on the stained fabric.

Wetness in Iori's tortured gasps. Something was wrong with him.

All this Kyo processed in a split-second and then his world went red. Roaring – his uncle turned at the sound – he charged, bulldozing the older man over and away from Iori. Both of them tumbled, crashing into nearby greenery. Branches snapped. Leaves scattered. Kyo rolled to his feet, crimson haze still there, glaring with outright hatred at his uncle. Blood pounded in his temples – rhythm chaotic – and Uncle Hajime gave him a derisive sneer as he, too, recovered.

Behind him was violent coughing.

"Knew you're up to no good." His uncle jerked his chin upward, as if directing him to Iori's suffering. "Gonna fight me, nephew? For him?"

"What'd you do to him, uncle?"

Uncle Hajime's answering glare would've turned a lesser man to stone. "You see what he did to me?" The torn, blood-soaked and burnt sleeve. "Still think he's good, Kyo?"

"You attacked him first."

"You believe that? You'll always take his side, won't you?"

Red in his vision, hovering. Iori's coughs were wet. Something was wrong – he'd been injured and in a dire way. _"What did you do to him?"_

"What should've been done before."

Kyo lost it.

Launched himself at his uncle, fists flying. Rage consumed him; the pulsating in his head hammered against his skull, throbbing. There wasn't any Uncle Hajime anymore. Just a man he hated – wanted dead. His blows failed to land. The other man sidestepped, parrying his punches with ease. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Wasn't…

Air driven out of his lungs.

The ground meeting his knees.

His uncle's fingers twisting tight in his hair, yanking his head back. "Always knew he turned you."

"Let him go, Hajime."

Saisyu's voice in the small space, commanding.

Kyo's stomach plummeted. Uncle Hajime released him and stepped aside.

Ice in his veins, blood running cold. Across from him – close and yet too far – Iori lay pinned beneath his father's foot, which applied pressure between the other's shoulders. Blood on Iori's face; his pallor drawn and stark, worse than when Kyo last saw him. Yagami's hands splayed out before him, fingers limp. Was he still alive? Or was he…

"You remember what I told you last time, Iori Yagami."

A faint tremor shook the fallen man's body.

"Brother, where's –"

"Rei's currently unable to join us. He'll be some time recovering."

"From what?"

His father's stare bored into him. "From Kyo."

Silence. Kyo sensed rather than saw his uncle's attention slew towards him. "Did he?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"A traitor through and through. You'll let Shizuka-san know?"

"Of course."

Just then, a voice the barest of whispers spoke. "Kyo…"

His father's reaction was immediate and savage. The foot atop Iori's back rose and stomped down; Yagami emitted a small cry and then fell silent. Tears pricked Kyo's eyes, yet he didn't look away.

"Hajime, take Kyo home."

"Yagami?"

"I'll deal with him."

Pain the knife in his heart. "No. You won't." Kyo rose to his feet, ignoring the soreness from where Uncle Hajime struck him. His intent was always to leave with Yagami – to protect him, to watch over him until the end. It was the plan he'd thought about telling his mother, but decided was too early to reveal. Now, only the bitterest opposition would suffice. Let them think him a traitor – he didn't care anymore.

"Hajime."

Movement from his left. Kyo shifted stance, repositioning himself.

Ducked to avoid the incoming fist. Saisyu circling on his right. Iori lying on trampled grass, silent and still. Kyo bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. His father at his back. That needed to change. Twisting his body, hurling it skyward, Kyo launched himself over his uncle. Upon landing, he spread his feet apart. Resumed his stance and anchored himself there.

His uncle was the first again to clash with him, tendrils of flame flickering from his fists. Kyo blocked high, shifted to divert the fist aimed at his midsection, parried that aside, and drove his own blow home. Uncle Hajime staggered back; however, he didn't fall. In that split second, Saisyu dove in, preceded by a rippling wave of flame.

Kyo countered, Orochinagi sweeping ahead.

Both Kusanagi flames vanished, devouring each other.

Through this, Saisyu's leg swept out, aiming for his face. Kyo hurried back a few steps, but the edge of his father's shoe grazed his cheek. He winced – blood had been drawn. Already, his father completed the revolution of his movement, turning into another. He couldn't retreat too far – didn't want to lose sight of the battleground or Yagami – but if he didn't create more space, his guard was going to break. If his father got within his guard…

He wasn't going to lose. Couldn't afford to.

Yagami. Yagami was…

Got his hands up in time to block the upward strike. His father was too close. This was dangerous. Kyo dropped low, lashing out with his feet to bring his father down. Saisyu toppled, but when Kyo scrambled up, Uncle Hajime was there to meet him. Only fast footwork saved him from taking two punches to the head, which would've knocked him out. Wetness streaked down his face, falling damp onto his shirt.

He set his jaw.

Charged his uncle – saw his eyes widen – grabbed and threw him.

The thud of his landing was satisfying.

But now his father was back on his feet and heading straight for him.

Kyo backpedaled, steering his steps towards Yagami, who still hadn't made a sound. His heart clenched, hurt. If Iori was lying dead there, then…then all this was…

No. Don't think that. Not now.

Saisyu roared in, fist flying. Kyo dodged, sidestepping the attack. The punch sailed past him, speed rippling the folds of his shirt. His father's enraged eyes. Again, too close. What must he do to shake him?

He countered with fire, mindful of the foliage around him. Kept the flames small.

His father's answering arc – flame whipping high, heat like a blade.

Kyo turned aside, was forced to shield his face.

A beefy forearm looped around his neck. Yanked him backwards. His heels scrabbled in the grass and dirt, trying to find purchase. Uncle Hajime behind him, arm pulling tight.

"That's enough, nephew."

It wasn't.

He opened his mouth but it wasn't in retort. With a loud grunt, Kyo flung his weight backward, driving both him and his uncle to the ground. His elbow rammed into Uncle Hajime's gut on the way down, expelling the older man's breath. Extricating himself, Kyo threw several quick and hard punches in succession to the other's face. Blood and bruises, sounds of pain…

His arm seized, wrenched back in its socket.

"_Enough_, Kyo."

Saisyu. His father. His wrist in a bruising grip with fingers that wouldn't let go.

"We're going home. And then you –"

Crackling in the air. Static charge. The hairs rising on the back of his neck.

_"RAIKOKEN!"_

Kyo pulled himself free, quickly, before the lightning attack connected. His father made a sound – limbs going spastic – and collapsed behind him, falling with a soft thud. Only then did Kyo turn. Only then did he assess the scene – take in the sight of Benimaru and Goro there and realize what his friend had done. Both of them stood there, looking down at his father and uncle sprawled in the grass. Benimaru offered him a hand.

"Kyo, you okay?"

"I…" He took Benimaru's hand but forgot whatever he meant to say. Letting go, he scampered to his feet and tore off towards the other fallen man in the grass. The one who truly mattered – the reason why he was here.

Iori lay with his cheek pressed to the blood-sodden grass, eerily quiet. Kyo turned him over, mindful of possible injuries and hissed when the grating sound of broken bone shattered the silence. The redhead didn't move, didn't open his eyes – was unconscious, withdrawn into a place beyond pain. Kyo placed a gentle hand upon the other's ribcage, prodding carefully through the bloodstained shirt. Iori's lower ribs on his left side were cracked, the curve of his chest caved in. It explained a lot about his breathing, which was faint.

It also meant the worst.

"Fuck," Kyo said, having nothing else he could say.

He sensed Benimaru and Goro behind him, but didn't turn around.

Iori was dying – the hours closing in fast – and he hadn't been able to say anything to him. Hadn't been able to – had to fight, to defend; yet, his uncle's lethal intent had been done, despite all his best efforts. Already, through the angry red imprints on Iori's neck, Kyo glimpsed the darkening of multiple bruises. Uncle Hajime's hands closed around Iori's throat.

Iori's breathed word. His name.

Kyo closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and bowed his head.

Silence around him and in this hidden place, it was heavy and still and unchanging. No wind, no sound – nothing. Time suspended, so long as he remained here.

But he couldn't stay. Not now. Not like this.

He opened his eyes. Gathered Iori into his arms – the other limp, weight of no consequence – and stood.

"Kyo," Benimaru said behind him, "where will you go?"

"I don't know," he said, gazing down at Iori, whose pallor was turning gray. "But he's not dying here. Not with them here. Not…"

Took a shuddering breath. Held back his tears.

"Don't worry about us, Kyo. Do what you have to."

He nodded.

"Thanks, Beni. Daimon."

Silence around him like a shroud – gentle, even with this coming to an end.

He left and didn't look back.


	33. Chapter 33 (Iori)

**For These Scars**

**~Chapter 33~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

He heard.

He heard the sounds of flame, of grunts, of movement around him. He heard the voices – the words – surrounding him. Two were stern, voices deeper and harsher. One wasn't, but the person with that voice didn't speak much. The sounds drew away from him, but then returned. Again, the older voices, commanding. Then a loud noise he couldn't place – he knew the saying, though – and all the sounds fell away.

It was silent. Quiet where he was.

He heard footsteps running towards him, the soft whisper of grass beside him, and then a voice, broken with pain right by him. He knew that voice – the one who didn't speak much earlier.

Kyo. Kyo Kusanagi.

Later, another familiar voice – Nikaido – asking a question.

Kyo answered. There was so much pain in his voice. So much.

Nikaido said something, to which Kyo responded.

He heard it all, clearly, and through his awareness – ephemeral, scattering like leaves in autumn – realized that was all he did. Sounds, voices, disturbances in the distance. He heard them but couldn't respond. Couldn't do anything but listen.

Now, all was silence.

Time no longer mattered. He couldn't feel anything. Just drifted, afloat in this lightness, as though carried.

Footsteps. Sounds in the distance, which then faded away.

Kyo hadn't said anything since he'd last heard him. Only footsteps, tread heavy, against pavement. The sound of his breathing nearby, which meant he was close. That…that made him happy, in the fleeting moment he became aware of it. Darkness around him and weightlessness and Kyo's presence – although he couldn't see – and it was everything he needed.

Kyo…

He wanted to say something but words were beyond him now.

He listened and the sounds changed. Pavement – did it always sound so loud? – to the hushed whisper of grass. The footsteps disappeared, yet Kyo's breathing didn't and that told him the other man was still there. By him. Where were they now?

The laughter of children in the distance. The hum and flow of traffic.

Those were left behind, falling away like cicada shells in summer.

Time flowed, endless – unable to be measured or counted – and in between, the bark of a dog, the rustle of clothing, the murmur of voices, and the occasional footsteps that resounded and then faded. They were going somewhere – he wasn't sure where – and Kyo's breathing had changed. Was going ragged, as though…

Awareness slipping by. A nascent thought forgotten.

He drifted, lost in darkness.

When he resurfaced – thoughts glimmering on the edge of memory like fish darting through water – it was different again. Gone were the sounds of human activity. Instead, he heard wind – there had been a breeze, right? – and nothing else. Silence and silence, encompassing – a quietness he'd never heard before.

The only other sound was Kyo's breathing and it was still close.

Where were they?

Footsteps, soft now and the rustling of grass around, silken in the wind. The clattering of small stones being dislodged. Kyo's curse, muttered under his breath. If he could, he'd smile, hearing that. Silibance surrounding them – gentle without threat – which meant they were among the grass. Wild grasses, to make that noise. The call of a bird. A bright answer, trilling high.

He knew where they were.

"We're at the sparring ground, Yagami. Remember that place?"

Yes. How could he forget?

Kyo's first words since they left the park. They were outside the city now. Far away from…from where darkness claimed him. How long had Kyo been walking? Carrying him? How much time had passed?

How much time did he have left?

"The tree's still there."

Footsteps again. Steady, sure, and heavy.

The tree. The tree where they used to relax after fighting. The tree where they…

Awareness fading – tendrils of memory, of faint images lost.

Darkness subsumed him. He was borne upon it, passing through incalculable spans of time. When its hold on him released – momentarily – memory was but flickers. Small, insubstantial – he grasped at them, at what they held.

He was fading. Wouldn't hold on for much longer.

"Yagami, you still there?"

Kyo's voice. It sounded broken. Pain and grief.

"The tree has flowers. I'd thought they'd come in later. There's a bird nest, too."

He could see it when Kyo described it like that. The tree. Leaves in full abundance – they would be green now – and flowers. A bird nest – same as the birds he heard before? Maybe not. They'd been too far away before.

Limbs entangled beneath the cover of leaves and branches.

Kyo muttering nonsense into the crook of his neck, clutching him tight.

No wind that day – an open sky, clouds rising high, and sunlight gilding the field gold.

Kyo's cocky smile. An extended hand, finger raised with its orange flame.

He'd smiled. Smiled and fallen into stance. Issued his challenge, knowing it was just play between them now without its usual sting.

Memories. Each of them dear. Each of them slipping away.

"Yagami?"

Raggedness in Kyo's voice. Was he crying?

Kyo in his room, flipping through the channels on his TV.

Kyo's hand gentle along his cheek, along his hipbone. Kyo was gentle, no matter what.

Two more memories lost. Discarded amongst the gathering darkness.

"Yagami…"

Kyo leaning in to watch as he wrote a new song, jotting down notes and symbols on sheet music.

Kyo asleep on the couch, catching what he'd called an "old man's nap" after a heavy lunch.

Kyo standing by the door – the first time. The first of many times.

Gone. Three more.

"Yagami…I'm…"

No. Don't apologize. He'd say this to him if he could. He has nothing to be sorry for.

"Yagami…"

Kyo at fifteen. Kyo at twenty. Kyo at twenty-three. Always nine months behind.

Kyo in the park, eyes fixed on him even as darkness and pain hammered down.

Two more gone and with them, his awareness – that final lingering brightness – tearing away, swirling into nothingness. Like fallen snow, melting. Like fireflies – brief flickers of light, vanishing too soon.

"Yagami…"

Kyo's voice from a distance, the gulf widening.

Kyo…

"Yagami…please…"

_I love you, Kyo. _Last thought – a spark of dying flame – before it went out.

"Yagami…"

Kyo's voice a mere echo in darkness.

A final heaviness, pressing down – an absolute whiteness. Then, nothing.

Nothing at all.


	34. Epilogue (Kyo)

**For These Scars**

**~Epilogue~**

_Written by: RinoaDestiny_

_King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK_

* * *

A few days short of June, on the last Saturday of May, Iori Yagami died at sunset. Only later did Kyo discover the exact time of death. They'd been at the park at noon; Yagami's death occurred around seven in the evening. Distraught with grief, wracked with emotional pain, he hadn't paid attention to the time. Held the other man close and wept; the body in his arms frail and lighter than it should've been. He remained outside the city that night, staying in the sparring grounds he and Iori most favored. His phone went off a few times, but Kyo ignored it.

In the morning – Iori's body stiff and cold – Kyo returned to the city with him. Despite the risk – not knowing his standing with the Kusanagi clan – he wanted to make sure Iori's family registry was updated. The other man deserved full funeral rites, which meant he had to follow procedure. A death certificate had to be issued. If he cremated Iori himself, the other would be denied all that.

He couldn't do that to Yagami.

The medical examiner had to take Iori away from him for the autopsy. Giving him up was difficult. Kyo had turned aside, placed one last kiss on his brow, and handed him over. Iori's keys, wallet, and phone were in his pockets – proof of identity and also…remembrances of a better time. Of the man Iori used to be. Iori would want to be remembered that way; Kyo knew that with surety. He also died having loved and being loved. If the not-quite-veiled expressions of the people around him were any indication, the fact that he and Yagami were close came as a surprise.

Let them talk. It didn't matter now.

Having nowhere to go, Kyo decided to stay at a nearby hotel. The autopsy results would take time in arriving and he was prepared for further complications. If the police needed to see him, for instance, they knew where to find him. After he checked in, he called the appropriate authorities and left them with his contact information and location.

His mother had called the night before. So had Aoi.

Surprisingly, Yuki also left a message.

He called his cousin first. Got an immediate opening of "Kyo, what's going on?" and when he asked what she meant, he found out the situation in the Kusanagi household. Apparently, his uncle and father had been apprehended by the authorities – _Beni and Goro's doing?_ – and the clan was abuzz about his disappearance. News had spread as far as Tokyo, reaching Souji's ears and Aoi had heard about it from him. Concerned, she had called.

"Yagami's dead," he told her, unable to keep the anguish from his voice. "He died last night."

"Kyo, I'm so sorry." Silence on the other end. "Was it –"

"My father and Uncle Hajime were involved. They…" Grief tight around his throat. "They hurt him. He…he never woke up."

"Oh, Kyo…"

"I can't go back home." He had no home. Not after yesterday. Not after Yagami died.

"Where are you?"

"Still in Osaka." Pain. He'd considered taking Yagami with him to Tokyo, to spend the remainder of the other man's time there. But Iori's situation yesterday closed that possibility and…. "Aoi, if anyone calls –"

"I won't tell them. I promise."

"Souji?"

"Him as well. He's not a part of this. He doesn't need to know."

He released the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you."

"What will you do, Kyo?"

"I don't know." He didn't. Not now. It was still too new. Raw. "I need…I need time."

"If you ever need any help…anything, Kyo – let me know."

"Thank you."

"Hold in there, Kyo, okay? He'll –"

"Probably call me an idiot and tell me to move on." Just the memory of Yagami calling him that hurt. "I…I didn't…"

He never got a chance to speak to Iori at the end. Iori had said his name – he'd heard it – but him? By the time he reached Yagami, the other man was beyond his reach. Yagami had died in that state; whatever Kyo said, he wasn't even sure the other heard. Even if he did, Iori never spoke again. It shouldn't have ended like this. Not like that – not with unspoken words. Words forever left unsaid.

"Kyo…"

"I…I need to call Mom. Aoi, I…"

"No, it's okay. Just wanted to check on you, Kyo."

He didn't have words left. Just a dull empty ache filling him.

"Call me if you need me, okay? I'm always here."

Silence.

Aoi waited a few seconds, her own line quiet, before the call ended on her side. Kyo looked down at his phone – at her contact on the screen – and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying.

Iori would want him to remain strong. Because in the end, that was who he was.

That was all he had left to keep him going.

* * *

Shizuka Kusanagi, understandably, was worried and upset. "Kyo, where are you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said, trying to allay her fears even though it wasn't the truth.

"Are you hurt? I'm not sure what happened yesterday, but –"

"Where's Dad? Uncle Hajime?"

A palpable pause. "They're in questioning now. By the police. Kyo, what happened?"

Was he always going to be asked this? The wound left by Iori's death hadn't stopped bleeding yet – would probably never close. "I…I went to meet Yagami. Dad and Uncle Hajime…I think they…" Took a deep breath. "I think they knew. Or suspected. They…they went looking for him."

"Is he all right?"

Pause. "He's dead. They…they killed him."

If Uncle Hajime hadn't broken Iori's ribs. Tried to strangle him. If his father hadn't stomped down on Iori like that…

"Kyo, if the police –"

"I'll tell them. If they…" If they come looking for him. He was at the park, after all. Had struck down that cousin of his – Rei, was it? "It mightn't help but…"

"Kyo…what were you planning on doing?"

"Yagami was…" Another breath, taken in slowly this time. He exhaled, blinking back tears. "Yagami was dying, so…I thought…" It shouldn't be this hard to get words out. "I wanted to take him away. It wouldn't be safe in Osaka, so…"

"Oh, Kyo." A sigh from his mother on the other end. "Were you thinking about that story?"

"Yeah."

"That only works in tales, son. It doesn't –"

"I know." He'd tried, but failed. Failed and Iori was dead. "I know that now."

Silence.

"Will you be coming home, Kyo?"

A question he dreaded, because he already knew his answer. "I can't, Mom."

"Kyo, I –"

"I can't. Have they…" He swallowed. "Has the clan done anything yet? Made any judgments?"

"Not yet. I'd know."

"They will." He knew this. After what transpired yesterday, he already knew the outcome. "I can't come home, Mom. I don't belong anymore."

"Kyo –"

"You said I needed to make a choice. I did. I chose Yagami. I chose this."

"You'll always be my son."

Tears in his eyes. "The clan won't think that."

Shizuka's voice over the line was fierce. "You're my son, Kyo. Clan rules or not."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Kyo?"

He felt like a child. Like a child lost, unsure where he was. "If Dad…if the clan…"

"Kyo?"

"If anything should happen, please don't…"

"Kyo? What are you saying?"

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."

"Kyo! Wait –"

He disconnected the call, reluctance and regret tugging hard. Tears began to fall. There was always a price to pay. Iori had paid his in full – unwarranted – and now it was his turn. But hadn't he always known that was possible from the start? That their relationship was always on the edge, always with the risk of discovery?

Why was this any surprise to him? At all?

* * *

The police eventually dropped by, but not before he sent a text to Yuki. She had wanted to know where he was, if he was okay, and that she'd heard about the incident at the park involving the Kusanagi clan. He hadn't given her much – he was fine (a white lie) and follow the news (more details would likely come later). He didn't mention Yagami. Considering he was the source of their contention – Yuki didn't need to know how badly his death pained him – it was better left unsaid. How he grieved for the other man's death was his own personal agony.

The authorities wanted to know the details. Took him down to the station. Questioned him. He gave them his account – refused to sign anything they put in front of him – and stuck to what he knew. Apparently, they'd questioned Benimaru and Goro as well, since they were the ones responsible for his father's and uncle's detention. He'd injured Rei, yes, but that was all he admitted to. To prevent a murder, he insisted. One his father and uncle had a part in.

Iori Yagami was dead. If they hadn't delivered those final blows, then he wouldn't have died so soon. He'd had time, Kyo believed. Days. Those injuries had dwindled days to hours.

Yagami never awoke. Never spoke again.

It was a pain, a bitterness he carried within him.

After several grueling hours, they released him. There was no charge. If his family name – the clan's clout – was the reason behind their decision, it burned within him, caustic and cruel. He'd set his face against the clan. He didn't expect any welcome from them. Braced himself for what might come.

From yesterday forth, he was their enemy.

_You'll always be my son._

He wondered how long that would hold once the clan responded. Once they sought to wipe away this embarrassment. The errant former heir.

What Yagami thought about it, he knew.

Then, he was reminded of something else. Nearly broke down when he did.

* * *

Time passed and the autopsy results came back. Since Iori didn't have any next-of-kin and Kyo was the closest to him – side glances thrown in his direction – he requested the details and received them. They made Iori's death sound mundane, clinically correct and neat, even though it wasn't.

Medical reason for demise was Iori's heart giving out, the muscle too weak to pump blood. That was probably a factor, yes, but that couldn't have been the only cause. He also suffered from internal bleeding, fractured ribs, compression of the upper spine (his father's doing), contusions on his neck, broken blood vessels in the eyes (his uncle's doing), severe malnutrition, a high-running fever, and burns over ninety percent of his body (he hadn't known that gruesome detail, since Iori never mentioned it to him). Just his heart failing seemed…

It was too simple, explaining it that way.

Iori's weight at the time of death was fifty-six kilograms.

Time of death was estimated to be from seven o'clock to five after seven in the evening.

Along with the autopsy report, Kyo was given a small bag containing Iori's personal belongings. When he opened it, he discovered Iori's rings – chrome and gunmetal shining – and almost lost it right there. Fortunately, wresting control back, he managed to contain himself until he left and reached his hotel room.

Wept then, grief rushing upon him anew.

* * *

With death confirmed, Kyo stayed in Osaka to arrange the funeral proceedings. No one else would do it for Yagami, so Kyo took it upon himself. The death certificate had already been issued and Iori's family registry updated. All that was left was finding a temple available to perform the wake and service. He had money – that was no issue.

The problem was putting himself out in public, knowing the Kusanagi clan was watching.

But Iori Yagami hadn't fallen in love with a coward, and Kyo wasn't about to become one at this most important of functions. Steeling himself, he moved ahead with his plans. Kept his focus and also his sixth sense alert.

In the end, nothing happened.

The wake and service were scheduled. Fees were paid. He sent invitations to Benimaru, Goro, and Chizuru. Prepared himself, feeling unready for this…this final send-off. This confirmation of the end.

It all felt unreal. It shouldn't be happening.

Iori Yagami was twenty four when he died. Barely two months – not even – after his birthday. He should've lived longer. Lived until the blood curse took him away. At least that…that was natural – a given within the Yagami clan. It would've hurt – grief the same – but without anger, bitterness, pain, or heartbreak like this.

Instead, he forged ahead, alone. An injustice had taken Yagami away.

He was never coming back.

Surprisingly, on the day of the wake – a week gone past – Benimaru and Goro both showed up. Kagura-san, somber in a black formal kimono, had questions in her eyes. Kyo didn't say much. Just thanked her for coming. Beni, who'd been there for most of it, laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Goro, who was only involved at the end, nodded at him and remained solemn. Kyo couldn't have asked for more.

Everything went by in a blur.

He only remembered a few things: Yagami in his coffin, wreathed with flowers. His wasted face calm, as though asleep. The scent of incense. The chanting of the sutras. Beni, Goro, and Kagura-san there – people at Iori's wake. People who cared.

Whatever questions Chizuru wanted to ask had to wait.

He'd scheduled the service immediately afterward. Didn't think he'd be able to endure another day if it occurred later.

The coffin being closed. The official cremation. The standard funeral luncheon.

The hardest part was yet to come. Kyo had been preparing himself, but nothing softened the impact of retrieving Iori's bones from the ashes. The only glimmer – the one bright spot in all this – was that there were ashes. In this, they'd thwarted his father's threat. Iori died, but not in an inferno and there was a place, after all, to inter his bones.

He was weary. Heartsick. Wanted to return to his hotel room and…

Chizuru approached him afterward. Asked her questions.

He responded.

She patted him on the shoulder, spoke a few comforting words, and left.

Yet, what he remembered most was something Benimaru said. After the service, after everything, his friend – the one he relied on during the entire ordeal – took him aside, looked at him, and sighed. "Yagami was worried about you, you know? When he called you a 'goddamn idiot', he had a lot on his mind."

"Like what?"

"What are you gonna do about your dad? Uncle?"

"They killed him, Beni. Both of them."

"He was afraid for you."

"About what?"

"Where do you go from here, Kyo? Now that…"

"I don't know." It was the truth. "I haven't decided."

"Just don't do anything rash."

"Yagami said that?" Just saying Iori's surname hurt. There was a lump in his throat.

"He did. He was looking out for you, you know."

"He was like that." _Was._ It shouldn't be this way.

"Take care of yourself, Kyo. You need me – call, okay?"

Kyo nodded. It was the only thing he could do now. He was tired. Wanted to sleep. Cry.

Beni gave him one last hand on the shoulder before he left.

Kyo watched him leave. He'd never felt so empty before.

* * *

Two weeks later, the Kusanagi clan sent four people to retrieve him.

Kyo's response was fire. Not only was he not going with them – return to face death? – but he wanted to make his message clear. Iori had died because of certain members of his clan. In speaking out against the atrocity inflicted on him, he was marked a traitor. Did they believe he'd just come along, knowing what was in store for him? Did they really think he'd go with people he didn't know?

He switched hotels after the incident.

Those four were the lucky ones. He spared them, yet left them without doubt as to his rage. His grief – that was for himself.

Time passed.

He applied for a replacement passport, just in case. Went through the scant contents of Iori's wallet. There was an identification card inside, still glossy and slightly worn. Iori looked disinterested in the photo, as if he'd rather be somewhere else. Kyo smiled seeing that – it was quintessential Iori. He was also healthy in the picture, color good and features strong. It was the way Kyo preferred to remember him, despite his last memory of the man.

Holding him as his breathing slowed and then stilled.

The way how his hair fell across his face as he died.

The slackening of his limbs, of his body, as that long-fought battle finally came to an end.

The rings sliding along their steel chain, soft metallic sounds.

The rings were no longer with him. When he interred Iori's ashes and bones, he buried them with him. They were never his to begin with. Let him take the symbol of their love with him. Let him keep what was dear to him.

There was also a health insurance card in Iori's well-used leather wallet.

Iori had been hospitalized. Hadn't told him the length of his stay or provided any further details. It would've been bad if that was the case. What his father did was…

There were no words for it.

The keys he kept in his pocket. Kyo didn't think he could ever enter the apartment again. Too many memories overshadowed by sadness now. Regret that he couldn't have done more. They also weren't his. He needed to send them back to the building manager. He didn't know Iori's landlord.

As for the phone…

Kyo left it alone. When Iori was alive, Kyo didn't pry into personal effects like that. Sure, he knew Yagami's concert schedule, but anyone could find the information online. Books on the shelf were fine, too. But Yagami's cell phone? That was off-limits, unless the other man wanted to show him something. Those occasions were rare. So even now – particularly now with Iori gone – Kyo didn't want to intrude into the other's most private possession.

He did, however, buy a charger and keep it charged.

The days went by. Time lessened the stranglehold of grief, but it was still too fresh. Too early to begin the full adjustment of a life changed. Yuki was past. Iori was bones and ashes under a memorial plaque and gravestone, one of many in a quiet, pristine cemetery.

Kyo didn't know how to move forward.

His replacement passport arrived. He withdrew money from the bank.

Sat and waited.

Didn't wait for long, since the Kusanagi clan sent six against him this time.

* * *

"Takeo," he said, tone hard and cold. "Let the elders know. If they send any more men, I'm not going to spare them. Look around you. Consider yourself lucky."

Saying this while the bodies of five lay burnt and dead around them. Terror in Takeo's face as he stared up at him, clutching his broken arm. The other man was close to his age, give or take a year or two. Kyo hadn't felt like killing him – Takeo was just the messenger boy. Could be used to relay back a stronger message that injuring four hadn't.

Pity five had to die to make his point.

"A cast and a few weeks and you'll be fine." He paused, letting the silence sink in. "Iori Yagami had his ribs caved in. His spine stomped on. He died from those."

Blood on his uncle's sleeve. The shredded fabric, bearing blackened edges.

Iori had fought back, desperate. Had fought back, ill and dying.

His heart had stopped. It was because of the last few injuries. Kyo was sure of it.

"The clan has revoked your title. Your privilege." Takeo saying this, grimacing. "The elders decided it. After the four."

So. It had finally come to this.

"Was my mother there?"

"She was." Less terror now that the other man was recollecting his thoughts. "Nothing she could do, though. You did raise fists against them. Kyo-kun, why?"

Only to Takeo could he speak like this. "Yagami did nothing wrong. He died unjustly."

"But he was the –"

"He was raised to hate. To carry on the strife. Like we were, Takeo."

The other falling silent – listening – as though reaching beyond the depths of his words for _something_.

"It's easy to hate someone when you don't know them. Yagami was like that at first. But he became too familiar and…" He shrugged, shifting his position. Looked at the bodies around them. The clan would take care of it. If news broke, the Kusanagi clan would lose more face. "Once he understood me, knew me better, it was too late. He couldn't go back."

"And you?"

"Same, I guess. My father or uncle give you any details?"

"Only that you sold us out for the rival clan."

"The feud was over, Takeo. Would've been, if my father had left well alone. But he didn't."

His father had taken Iori's life – slow, an agonizing and humiliating crawl towards an unavoidable death – and all because he loved a man forbidden to him. Because of their blood feud. Because of that stupid, ancient hatred still alive today.

"Kyo-kun, you killed five today. You know what –"

"You hate me, Takeo? For today?"

Takeo didn't flinch. "I should, shouldn't I?"

"Tell my mother I'm well. Don't want her to worry."

"She will. After this."

It was time to leave. Kyo glanced around again, at this desolate spot away from the hotel at night. Five dead and the clan would be forced to readjust their view. Their priorities. Kyo expected retaliation, if Takeo's warning hinted as much.

"Get that checked out. Don't come looking for me again, Takeo."

"I won't. Others will, though."

Kyo left. Didn't think he'd see Takeo again after tonight.

* * *

With five dead and blood on his hands, Kyo made a decision. It required a trip down to the cemetery, though – a temporary farewell of sorts. With five members of his former clan slain, it was no longer wise or safe to stay in Osaka. That meant saying goodbye to Iori again – it might be a while before he could return.

He entered the graveyard like a shadow, clad in dark colors. Entered at night, and offered the small incense stick at Iori's gravestone. The carved characters of his name were on the stone – black, as if indelibly fixed with ink – and Kyo ran his hand down the stone, as though taking the name within himself. The incense burned, scent drifting into the air.

It was calm. Quiet. Silence before the storm.

"Yagami, it's me." Several weeks and his voice still came out hoarse. The pain still there, still raw. "I killed five of my own. The clan has disowned me. They will send assassins soon. I know you didn't want this – didn't want me to go against them, but…"

He paused.

Resumed. "I can't remain in Osaka. I have to leave. So I want to say goodbye."

Not the goodbye that signified no return. Not the goodbye that meant separation forever. Goodbye, as in he'd return. One day. To see this gravestone in this cemetery again, whenever that may be.

"I returned your keys to the building manager. Mailed them back. Hope they got it."

Speaking to the dead. Maybe, if there was an after, Yagami was listening.

"Yagami, I'll return. I don't know when. But…"

But of all the promises he couldn't keep – couldn't hold – this one, he could. He willed it so.

"I won't forget, Yagami."

He left it at that – a declaration to the deceased, to one beloved. Iori would understand. He would.

He departed Osaka that evening. Arrived in Tokyo early in the morning.

* * *

Tokyo was a large city, a hubbub of noise and life but Osaka was _the_ city in Kansai and Kyo never thought otherwise. Once situated, he kept a low profile, unwilling to make himself the center of attention. Since the Kusanagi clan kept his cousins informed of current circumstances, he didn't contact Aoi. Lived in a lower-grade hotel – no lease to hold him down – and bought his meals at the local convenience stores. He always changed the location daily, trying to remain nondescript.

Grew his hair out. Trimmed it, so he didn't look homeless, which was the bitterest of ironies. He maintained some facial hair, masking his features; yet, when it grew too much, the reflection in his hotel bathroom's mirror resembled Saisyu Kusanagi. He took after his father – always had – and the sight was a wound in the heart inflicted upon one still open, still aching.

He shaved most of it off that night.

The one habit he maintained – the one he deemed necessary – was his daily workout, his practicing of forms, the continuous ingraining of movement and strength behind each potential blow. It'd been necessary when he fought against rivals and friends. It'd been necessary when he had been the Kusanagi clan heir. It was necessary now, for assassins would be searching. By the time they found him, Kyo wanted to be ready.

Four injured.

Five dead. Takeo with a broken arm.

Whoever they sent, Kyo was going to kill them. Fire, rage, and guilt.

Iori Yagami died. Kyo wasn't going to do the same – wasn't going to let them.

So, he practiced – forms at night, movement across the room.

Lived his life – actual living, not survival – and kept his senses alert.

He wasn't a dreamer. Not usually. But recently, at the dead of night or towards morning, he would awake, holding onto transitory images fleeing from his mind. More than the images were the feelings that accompanied them: amusement, contentment, and on a few occasions, the want to laugh. He never knew what was so funny – couldn't remember – but the residual aftereffects of those dreams were strong.

He began listening to music again – not his type, not rock. Jazz, the bluesy strains fitting his mood. In a way, it helped. It was a reminder of Iori – of a man who guided him into appreciating something else beyond his narrow range of interests – and it was soothing. It also brought back memories of the apartment, of their closeness together, of the times he watched Iori place the CD into the music player, fingers long and movements precise.

When Iori died, his hands were ravaged – flesh withered, bones protruding from beneath pale-gray skin. Like leaves crumbling into dust.

Iori was in Osaka with nothing more than a stone and memorial plaque bearing his name.

He was in Tokyo – _the_ city in Kanto – and the miles never seemed longer.

Distance again. It appeared they were always fated to be apart.

Aoi called. Word had reached Souji of the change in clan hierarchy and his cousin was alarmed. Wanted to speak to him – what had he done for them to strip him of his title and rank? She wanted to know.

Kyo didn't respond. Not this time. Best keep her out of it.

He also didn't want Souji involved. His other cousin stepped out of the role that used to be his for personal reasons. No reason to drag him back into it.

He continued practicing. Living. Living a life alone, in a city that wasn't the one he knew.

Iori died at the end of May. Before Kyo realized it, July slipped by and it was August.

Two months elapsed. Two months gone.

He felt it like a keen blade edge to the throat. How had that happened unawares?

His cash ran out. He needed to withdraw money from the bank.

The last time that happened, the Kusanagi clan made a decisive strike.

He took the money out. Changed hotels and went somewhere remote.

* * *

Last time, six were dispatched against him. This time, four assassins were his quarry.

It was less of a fight and more of a slaughter. Kyo didn't waste words with them; neither did the assassins. They were here to complete one job. How unfortunate, then, that Kyo refused to die. His attacks were fierce – no flash, no play – and since failure meant death, losing wasn't an option. He got hurt – injuries were bound to happen – but the charred bodies lying on the ground were theirs. Three men, one woman – not that anyone could tell by their features now.

He was in Tokyo. The clan was in Osaka.

For the first time in his life, Kyo disposed of bodies. Cremated them to ashes. Buried the bones. It was better than they deserved, but he wasn't cold-blooded.

Just angry. Just living on for a man who couldn't.

He self-medicated and treated himself – Yagami would've been proud – and changed locations again. Blood on his hands – nine dead now – and if the authorities got wind of it, he'd never see the outside world again. Would hang for deliberate acts of murder.

He'd never thought his life would tilt like this.

Two weeks went by before the clan responded.

This time, he had warning.

* * *

Shizuka Kusanagi again. His mother sounded harried, worried, and urgent. "Kyo, where are you?"

"Can't say."

"Kyo, your father and uncle…"

"What about my father and uncle?"

His mother paused. It was several seconds before she spoke again. "Kyo…did you kill those people?"

He sighed inwardly, but never let it show in his voice. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because four were assassins and the other five wanted to bring me back." He didn't say 'home'. He had no home to call his own anymore. "Did Takeo deliver my message?"

"He did. He's the new heir-in-training. You probably didn't know that."

He remembered the other man's thoughtful face. How he listened as Kyo explained why he did what he did. How they parted. "He's a good man, Mom."

"Kyo…your father and uncle are looking for you."

It was not unexpected, but still sudden on the heels of the assassins' appearance. "Are they?"

"Kyo…you're not going to –"

"If they move against me, I have to."

"I understand your anger, son. I do. What was done to Yagami was terrible. But he's still your –"

"My father? The man I thought I knew wouldn't have –"

"If you kill your father, Kyo, you're never coming back from that."

No. Of course not. It was unforgivable – the ultimate breach of filial piety. He had no right to criticize his elders, let alone his father. Yet, he'd done it over and over again, railing against an outdated system that wouldn't allow him to speak out against wrongs done. His lover had been killed and his father and uncle had slipped the judicial system. That didn't leave him much choice. If they were coming to kill him…

"Mom, I can't guarantee anything."

"Kyo, please think it over."

"Assassins, Mom. The clan wants me dead. What do you think my father and uncle want to do?"

He wasn't calling Saisyu 'Dad'. Never again after Iori's death.

His mother went quiet. She probably knew.

"Whatever you do, Kyo – please. Don't let him suffer."

Yagami had suffered. Immense pain, immense emotional turmoil, immense shattering of being. He didn't say it to Shizuka, though. His ire wasn't for her.

"Goodbye, Mom."

"You're still my son, Kyo. Even if."

That was generous of her. Her world was falling apart – the clan in shambles, her son an outcast, father against son – yet, in the end, he was her child and her love unwaning. Because she knew. She knew Saisyu had overstepped his bounds regarding Iori. It would be different if he hadn't.

"Love you, Mom."

He hanged up on her. Gently, softly. A part of his life was past.

It was time to move on.

* * *

His father and uncle found him eventually. More likely, because Kyo wanted them to.

He had a settling of grievances here. Despite Yagami's insistence – the other strident about his rash line of thought (opposition to his clan) – Iori was no longer here. Could no longer say anything to curb his rage, to break the waves beating upon the wounded shore of his heart. For Iori could no longer pursue justice or vengeance, so Kyo was going to do it for him.

Lovers. Souls forged in rivalry, tempered by their joint ordeals.

Yagami had been a strong man, singular in thought and action. Kyo never thought less of him after his crippling at Saisyu's hands. It was for him that this fight – this ending – had to come. A final resolution before he could move on. Never past the pain, no. But his life had skewed into that plausible third option and he was going to take it.

First…

His uncle was aquiline, still. Face shadowed, eyes hooded, muscles and bones fixed into an impenetrable mask. There were no words this time. No taunts, no derision, no mockery. Just cold focus – an action needed to remove the stain of disgrace from the Kusanagi clan.

Kyo met him in battle and it was brutal.

Whereas before, they'd sought to restrain – this time, it was to kill.

He'd practiced his forms, grounding it into his bones, into his every movement, into the way how he breathed. This time, when he clashed fists against his own blood relative, Kyo didn't have to think. He just _moved_.

Rage and grief and pain channeled.

Uncle Hajime was down, one more soul deceased. Another offering to the one wronged.

His father was next. Kyo had sought to divide them – to save Saisyu last.

What had it been like for Iori, facing a man with an expression like this? Terrifying, perhaps. The last time he'd seen this was when Rugal set his father against him – back when he believed Saisyu to be a good man. That had been a long time ago, when he was naïve and younger. He wasn't any of those anymore. He had his father, ironically, to thank for that.

Kyo never allowed his father to land more than a glancing blow.

The book of ancient killing techniques. His father knew them. Used one against Iori.

If he let him, he'd be on the receiving end of one himself.

That wouldn't do. He wasn't the one dying here. Not today.

So, with everything he had – dramatic improvement with the weight of his anguish – Kyo gave his all. Flame, fists, techniques, raw instinct (shades of Yagami) all honed towards a single death. When he landed his critical blow, Saisyu fell at his feet.

However, the older man wasn't dead.

It'd been in his mind to leave him there. To let him die slow and in misery like Yagami had. It would've been fitting – would've been a perfect tribute to the man he lost.

Shizuka's words in his mind, echoing.

_Don't let him suffer._

In the end, Saisyu was still his father. His mother's husband. She'd requested it of him. Who was he to deny her? He wasn't his father, after all.

Picked his father up by the lapels of his kimono. Drew his fist back.

Delivered the quick killing blow.

Left his father and uncle there. Let them be found. His former clan needed closure.

It also meant he couldn't stay here. Not just in Tokyo. Japan was barred to him now. Deaths in Kansai and Kanto. He had to leave, to go abroad. That meant leaving Yagami behind. Miles upon miles with oceans between them.

_I won't forget you. I'll be back._

Words in his mind, engraved in his soul, when he departed for Southtown that same day on the earliest flight he could catch.

* * *

He'd only been in America during the tournaments. He'd never intended on staying, for home was Japan and home never changed. Until now. Usually, he'd seek out the Southtown crew – the Bogard brothers, King, Mary Ryan, Mai Shiranui (unless she was in Japan), and Joe Higashi (unless he was in Japan or Thailand) – but as a fugitive, Kyo decided against that course of action. Like in Tokyo, he remained of low profile and never drew attention to himself.

It also helped that he looked different now. Long hair changed his face.

The first obstacle was the language barrier. While English was taught in Japanese classrooms, he'd been a disinterested student and slept through his classes. The only words he knew were "Yes", "No", "Excuse me" and his accent was terrible. Yagami probably would've laughed if he was here. Yagami, who favored foreign films (a stunner, when he found out) and whose comprehensive reading extended to bilingual texts.

His accent, though, was shoddy as well. Kyo recalled that much.

The second obstacle was his immigration status. Unless he shifted into something more permanent, he'd have to leave within a matter of weeks. He'd already uprooted himself from home. He didn't want to make another major change so soon.

There were more obstacles: lack of funds once his converted money was gone, no employment, and without any solid proof of education (no high school graduation diploma), he was shit out of luck on both. His actions in his younger years served up unforeseen consequences. He'd never had to consider them before.

Would he receive an invitation to the tournament this year? For that was his source of income. Yet…

With him on the lam, showing up on the world stage mightn't be the best move. Also, with Yagami gone – sharpness there, as if stabbed – he wasn't sure if he was ready to face his absence. What explanation would the tournament organizers provide? Yagami dead of the blood curse? Easy enough, since everyone knew the downside of the Yagami clan's bloodline. Not the truth, but Iori wouldn't want anyone else to know anyway.

But _his_ absence? What possible excuse would they give for Kyo Kusanagi not being there?

He didn't die. He didn't get kidnapped. He was just…

For once in his life, he wasn't looking forward to the annual tradition of the mysterious invite. If they decided to pass him by, it'd be a blessing.

Home was America now. Southtown, in all its seedy wonder and criminal elements.

He'd killed his father. His uncle. Others, besides. What was he, but a criminal?

It was a cold honest truth, sinking deep into his guts.

Shizuka Kusanagi. Aoi Kusanagi. Yuki. Takeo, newly raised to the status he once was.

Iori. Always Iori, for whom he now bore a bloodstained soul.

A price to pay. Was it worth it?

The gentle smile on the other's face like sunlight behind rain clouds. Bemusement lighting his eyes, red-brown irises soft instead of hard. Hands intertwined, solace in unity. The redhead's hair covering his face as he wrote. His kindness whenever he saw cats. A steady stride, head held high, back straight and Kyo loved him for it.

Was it worth it? Yes, it was.

If Iori Yagami was to die again for similar reasons, Kyo would exact the same vengeance. The other man lived a cursed life, finding happiness only six months before his untimely end. They'd been together, however brief that time. They'd embarked on finding each other through that trial together. So if Kyo had to be cursed himself – a parricide for the rest of his days – then it was a cost he was willing to pay.

For Iori paid all.

So, too, let him be an equal in this.

* * *

Time continued. Months went by. Southtown went through its seasons and Kyo, who was notorious for lack of effort, applied himself to adjusting to his new home. Sometime later, he sought out Terry, for he ran into constant issues. Terry, who was laid-back as ever, asked how he was (after a double-take at his new appearance). Kyo gave him a barebones rundown of his situation, of why he was here. By the time he was done, the American was contemplative, mien serious.

"Have they sought extradition for you yet?"

"If they have, it would've been done by now." He wasn't sure how it worked between Japan and America, but the authorities would've moved fast to locate him if that was the case. "I'm not going back for now, Bogard."

"You will go back, though? One day?"

"Yagami's there. I told him I would."

Silence. The blond man glanced up at a sky laden with heavy steel-gray clouds. "You weren't at the tournament."

"What was the news there? Did they say anything?"

"Well…" Terry removed his cap, holding it in his hands. "Chizuru put about that Yagami died of the blood curse. She mentioned that you were taking some time off. A much-needed absence. Gave more spotlight to K' and some of the new blood, not having two iconic veterans around."

Leave it to Kagura-san to mention it in a politic and simple way. "I might not come back."

"Have you stopped fighting?"

"No." Kyo scuffed the edge of his shoe against the salt-stained pavement. "I still fight, but…"

"What you're dealing with now is much larger than any physical fight."

"I saw him die, Bogard. I couldn't do anything to stop it."

"Yeah, I know that feeling. Geese killed my father when I was a kid, Kyo. Andy saw it, too. There's nothing you can do. It leaves you feeling…hopeless."

"So how did you move on?"

"Like how you're doing. Either you lie down and quit or you try to make something positive with what you have left."

"Yagami wanted me to move on. Past him. He knew." Iori hadn't known about his break-up with Yuki. It was better that way, looking back. "But I couldn't. He needed me. Needed someone. I couldn't abandon him."

"Knowing Yagami, he wouldn't want to see you stop here."

"He wouldn't. Calling me an idiot now, I bet." The memory made him smile. "So what should I do, Bogard?"

"Well…" Terry looked at him and sighed. "With what you left behind in Japan, getting you citizenship won't be likely. Just want you to know that."

"Can you help?"

"You have a lawyer? I'm a fighter, Kyo. Mary knows more about the law than me, but you need to go through someone in the know."

"I do." He'd been extending his status, but he couldn't do that forever. "I'll leave when I'm ready."

"It's a good thing I know some Japanese. How's your English?"

Kyo scrunched his face. "Terrible. I don't understand it. How it works."

"Welcome to America."

Kyo laughed. "That's how you all greet newcomers?"

"Sometimes. Depends on who they are."

He extended his hand. Terry reached out and took it, a solid strong grip. "Thank you, Bogard. For listening."

"You have friends, Kyo. You made a decision few of us ever want to make. I don't envy you a bit of it. But if you have need, those of us in Southtown can help. Got that?"

"Got it."

America was his new home, however temporary. He wasn't alone, though.

Could make a new life here.

* * *

Months passed into a brand new year. More time elapsed and the first anniversary of Iori's death approached. It hit Kyo hard, worse than he could've imagined. Grief gripping like a merciless fist, memories good and bad striking with equal fervor. If he was still in Japan, the memorial service would be soon. He would attend, if he was there.

_One day, Yagami. Please have patience with me._

His English improved. He tried bits and pieces of it on store clerks, on the occasional passerby. People smiled at his efforts and he wasn't sure if it was due to hilarity at his accent or how he tripped over unfamiliar words, possibly using them out of context. Terry helped him with the oddities he couldn't figure out and recommended he watch movies or programs on TV. Besides speaking, he had to listen. To hear it constantly.

He wrote poetry. Tried it in English. It didn't have quite the same flair, the same charm.

He wrote one for Yagami. Knew the other man would've found it abysmal.

Didn't care. It was a dedication. A tribute in words.

He was still mourning. But removed from the place where the death happened, surrounded by old friends, setting roots into his new home, Kyo found it was becoming easier. Stepping into the world without all of that weight, without all the pain suffocating him.

Day by day, he was able to move on.

He grew his hair longer – had it in a ponytail by now. Kept the faintest shadow of a mustache. He never grew a beard, because it reminded him of his late father.

That was a pain passing, too.

More time went by and seasons changed.

The authorities never came. There was no extradition, apparently.

He could only guess why. The clan back at home keeping face. To bring him back would reveal the whole story – the whole chain of events – and to acknowledge he had, in fact, been intimate with Yagami would've been shameful. However, Kyo wondered if part of that was also Takeo's doing. Takeo, who first warned him about possible assassins. Takeo, who couldn't bring himself to hate in return.

He hoped Takeo was doing well. Was steering the clan in a new direction.

Months went by. He was almost twenty five. If Yagami was still alive, he'd be twenty five approaching twenty six within the next four months.

Somehow, that thought didn't hurt as much. The wound closing, starting to heal.

It was a blessing – one he'd believed would never happen.

* * *

Within a blink of an eye, years passed. Kyo's English fluency gained speed – Terry continued to help and Mary, who also knew the story now, assisted. They also pointed him in the direction of better legal services outside Southtown, since Kyo's long-standing presence in the States meant he needed stronger permanence.

He never sought citizenship. Mary stressed that if he did, the government would want to know about any possible criminal activity, convicted felonies, and everything of that ilk. With all those deaths from years before, Kyo didn't want to risk it. Questions asked would lead to answers. Lying to the authorities only to be discovered later would be disastrous.

Playing it safe, he opted for a less intrusive option.

He was twenty nine now. It brought to mind Yagami's actual lifespan. Less than thirty years. If Yagami hadn't died all those years before – if Saisyu never found out – and Kyo had remained with him, the blood curse would've struck already. Yagami would be dead, but of something expected. He would've shown up at his funeral service, one rival to another and their relationship a hidden secret.

He still thought of Yuki from time to time. That, too, ceased to hurt as much.

Five years. It'd been five years since he left Yagami's grave that one evening in Osaka.

Characters carved into stone. Incense in the holder, fragrance in the air. The memorial plaque. The one photograph he'd provided, showing a young man handsome and nonchalant, red hair over his face. There'd been no sorrow or anguish – just a calm, casual coolness that was Iori Yagami. The Iori he knew. The Iori he remembered.

He wrote a poem every year. English, he realized, had its subtleties as well.

He used to hate school. Used to find it boring. But Mary encouraged him to study for a test, to gain the equivalence of a high school diploma. Otherwise, he'd be left doing manual labor, which was what he did now for employment.

He hadn't attended a tournament in years. Still self-trained, but those public appearances were left behind. He was okay with it. Let the younger upcoming fighters dominate. People like him, eventually, were to become legends – relics of their era, of a time gone past.

Chizuru had contacted him before. Had needed his help with an Orochi crisis.

What about Yagami? He'd wondered about that – one of the Sacred Treasures (one of the clans) was gone.

Don't worry, she'd said. The jewel would find its origin. Things would happen as fated.

She was a priestess. One of the Yata clan. Kyo believed and aided her that time. Nothing untoward had occurred. The jewel – the third treasure – had shown up, unbidden, as though summoned by a god. Orochi's revival was averted and the world lived to see another day.

Time continued slipping by.

Kyo studied and passed the test. Terry and Mary threw him a celebratory party. At least now the jokes about him being a high school dropout would stop. It only took several years, a tragic death, other deaths, and a drastic move.

He hoped for better now. Dreamed, still, of jazz and a deep voice and gentleness.

Of love. Of promises made. Of a promise unbroken.

For he would make it back one day.

* * *

At age thirty-two, Kyo fell in love again.

The woman was young, attractive, and lively with a magnetic personality. Her name was Mariko Nakamura and she was a Japanese-American born in the States originally from the West Coast. She came here seeking different opportunities, seeking adventure and while Southtown didn't offer much, it was unique. Kyo met her in the bar, of all places, and while chatting with her, felt his heart thump against his chest.

A third chance at love. Yagami wouldn't begrudge him. Wouldn't have wanted him to move on, if he had.

He'd let Yuki down. His mistake and no one else's.

He'd failed to protect Iori. Had cheated on Yuki.

With Mariko, if he really was given this third bright chance, Kyo didn't intend on squandering it. He'd protect her and be faithful to her. There were some things in life given in grace. This was one of them.

Weeks to months to two years.

He got to know Mariko. Met her parents. Fielded some tough questions about his background, his family, and his prospects. Mariko's folks sizing him up, judging if their daughter chose a suitable man. Kyo held under their scrutiny, having been through worse. He must've made a good impression, because Mariko's father warmed up to him afterwards. Three weeks later and he popped the question to Mariko, who said "Yes" and flung herself into his arms.

At age thirty-four, Kyo became a married man.

* * *

He had a son at thirty five. Named him Yasuhiro.

Two years later, Mariko gave birth to a daughter. Kyo named her Keiko. Even though his clan disowned him, his surname never changed. He was the proud father of Yasuhiro and Keiko Kusanagi and the loving husband of Mariko Kusanagi.

Soon after, time flew.

One day, when he was thirty nine – sixteen years since he'd left Iori's grave – he received a random phone call. Felt his heart stop, if only for a millisecond. The voice over the phone was one he hadn't heard in over a decade.

"Kyo, is that you?"

Shizuka Kusanagi. His mother.

"Mom?" How did she find him? "How –"

"Your cousin Aoi's very good at finding information online." A quiet pause. "Are you all right, Kyo? It's been a while since we last spoke."

A lump in his throat. He swallowed. "You have grandkids now, Mom."

"I do?"

"Yasuhiro and Keiko. They're a handful but you'll love them."

"Sounds like they take after you."

"Really?"

"Don't you remember? All your skinned knees, climbing trees, running around?"

He laughed and then stopped, close to tears. "Are you okay, Mom?"

"It's been difficult since…your father died, but…"

"I had to, Mom. I couldn't –"

"I tried to prevent him from going. I did. I just knew…I feared…"

"Is the clan okay? How's Takeo doing?"

"Fairly well. He's a different kind of clan head. Thoughtful. More open to change."

"That's good. Yuki?"

"Married. Has three children already. All girls."

He smiled. "Does her husband treat her well?"

"He does. She's happy now, Kyo."

The last question and the one dearest to his heart. "Yagami. Does anyone visit his grave?"

"Kagura-san does. Leaves incense and a flower every time. Nikaido-san leaves incense as well. For you, I think, since you haven't been back."

A thorn, tip sharp against the healing wound. "I will, Mom. One day."

"When?"

"When it's just me." There was an emphasis there, despite how subtle his tone was. "When I won't hurt anyone else."

"You've grown up, Kyo."

"I know."

Another pale silence. "Takeo didn't pursue any charges. Didn't report anything to the police. You can come home whenever you like."

"My home's here now, Mom."

"I meant Osaka. A part of you is with Yagami, isn't it?"

She knew him all too well. "It is. But I can't. Not now."

"Kyo?"

"Yes?"

"Can I see my grandchildren?"

Relief, then – the sun wheeling out from behind silver clouds, throwing light into fog and darkness. "I'll check with Mariko. If she agrees, then I'll send you a plane ticket."

"Why do that? Let me know and I'll order my own."

"You haven't changed, Mom."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Yes, Mom."

* * *

Shizuka Kusanagi flew in from Osaka, Japan to Southtown, United States within two weeks. Kyo hadn't seen his mother in sixteen years – the timing coincided with his departure from Osaka – so it was a shock to see her with white hair and wrinkles around her eyes. Still, his mother dressed with impeccable taste – he wasn't sure what the current kimono fashions were like in Osaka – astonishing his wife and impressing his in-laws.

The children were asleep, so Kyo didn't disturb them. Time enough for his mother to become familiar with his son and daughter. Strapping them into their car seats, Kyo went to the driver's side, buckled himself in, and drove the entire family home. Like his mother, his in-laws were visiting them on account of the grandkids.

For the first week and a half, his mother suffered from jet lag. After, though?

It was interesting in the Kusanagi household and never stopped being so.

His mother loved Yasuhiro and Keiko. Doted on them, in fact. Mariko was worried she was going to spoil them, but Kyo smiled at his wife and said the kids were still young. It was okay for now – maybe later, once they grew older, he'll see. He'd already begun calling his son "Yasu" as his nickname. Keiko was always going to be the jewel in his eye, like her namesake.

That was only the first of many visits his mother made to the States to see her grandkids.

Time passed, changing with the seasons.

Leaves changed color and fell. Snow blanketed the ground, turning the world white. Green shimmered in the trees, dappled sunlight on grass. Sweltering heat with haze hanging in the air, mysterious puddles in the distance on sun-baked concrete.

He saw his children off to school.

He saw his children heading off to the bus stop.

Yasuhiro was five. Ten.

Keiko was three. Eight.

Mariko asked him about the poems he wrote every year. Said there was a lot of feeling in them. He explained that it was for someone he knew long ago, which was the truth.

Yasuhiro was fifteen. Kyo collaborated with his wife to throw him a terrific birthday party. By then, his son expressed interest in the military. Wanted to go to West Point. Kyo didn't dissuade him. Let him follow his dreams – let him make his own future.

Keiko turned sixteen. The family celebrated, making her birthday just as memorable as her brother's. His daughter had inherited the Kusanagi flame, not his son. Kyo discovered this a while ago. Taught her some basic self-defense techniques and non-lethal martial arts. He also showed her how to control and utilize her flame. At least, being a father, he didn't have to worry so much about her safety. If anyone hurt his daughter, there'll be hell to pay.

His son graduated. "I'm proud of you, Yasu," he said, wishing him well. "We'll always be here if you need us, okay?"

Yasuhiro had grinned – he had his mother's twinkle in his eyes – and saluted.

His son went to West Point.

Keiko's interest in science peaked during her high school years. Mariko asked what field she was interested in while they sat with her going over possible college options. Biochemistry, she said. Already had a few universities in mind. Kyo visited some of the college campuses with her. She was studious – definitely took after her mother – but when she smiled, he glimpsed himself in her face. He couldn't be prouder of his daughter. Told her so.

His daughter graduated. "Are you going to make a breakthrough, Keiko?" For his daughter always wanted to be innovative – to make new discoveries in her field of science.

"Just watch me, Dad."

He did. Asked her to keep him informed of any news in the media.

By this time, he was fifty-five years old.

Mariko was fifty-two and his comfort at his side.

More years passed, faster than expected.

Yasuhiro went to the Marine Corps after graduation from West Point. However, war took him to the front lines, where he was part of the spearhead in the preliminary operations. Kyo received the heartbreaking news delivered in-person by a military officer that his son made the ultimate sacrifice for the country. He'd wept, alongside Mariko, who was equally shaken by the tragic tidings.

His son was buried with full military honors in the national cemetery.

His wife never recovered from their son's death. It was soon followed by her parents' demise from old age and illness.

In his sixties, Kyo witnessed several funerals. It was very different from the traditional Japanese funerals – Mariko's family was Westernized – but the feelings and vibe were the same. His wife broke down; he was there to hold her, to whisper words of comfort into her ear.

Keiko had returned to visit them. Had been there during Yasuhiro's interment and her grandparents' burials. She'd made discoveries – had papers published in official scientific journals – but she only told him afterward. The family had come together during their time of immense grief and Kyo was grateful for the steady look in his daughter's eyes.

"Does _Obaasan_ know?" For that was how his daughter differed between Mariko's side of the family for her grandma and for Kyo's side of the family for Shizuka. Shizuka was always _Obaasan_ for Keiko.

His eyes were dry. "She knows. She's ill, though."

His daughter sat down, as though handed a sudden burden. "Oh, Dad. No…"

"She's lived a long life. Got to see you and Yasu. It's…"

"Will you go back?"

He wanted to, but his history with his former clan would make his presence troublesome. Takeo mightn't care; however, he'd left bad blood with the others. He didn't even know if there was a new heir by now. "It's complicated, Keiko."

"Dad…"

"See how your mother's doing. I'll be fine."

* * *

When Kyo turned sixty-five, his mother passed away. Shizuka had called, though, one last time to say goodbye to him. To her son, for that sentiment of hers never changed.

He grieved. It was around this time his hair went from gray to white.

Keiko was there – a glimmer of brightness in the gloom – yet, she couldn't stay. Her own life split from theirs and Kyo let her go with his blessing.

A year later, Mariko died in her sleep.

That reunited him with his daughter as they planned the funeral service for a beloved wife and mother taken away too soon. Keiko held his hand during the wake and service, a pillar of strength even in her own sorrow. Kyo loved his daughter and missed his late son. His children were gifts granted – hadn't deserved – and it was more blessing than he could've asked for. After, in the sanctuary of their home, his daughter hugged him as if she wouldn't let go.

When she did, she asked him a question. "What will you do now, Dad?"

He was sixty-six, getting along in years and his daughter didn't need to be burdened with taking care of him. "Keiko, you know the will your mom and I wrote up?"

Keiko's eyes brimmed with tears. "Dad?"

"If you need it, it's in the safe in our closet. You know the combination."

"Why are you telling me this, Dad? Are you going to…" His daughter couldn't finish her sentence.

Kyo embraced her. "It's going to be lonely, Keiko. Your brother's gone, we just laid your mother to rest, and me…maybe…"

"But you're still okay, right? You're only sixty-six, Dad. You're not that old."

"I've been through a lot. Tired lately."

"But…"

"Keiko, remember when you asked back before _Obaasan_ died if I'd go back? To Japan?"

"Yes."

"I need to go back now. I have a promise to fulfill. To someone I once knew."

That got his daughter's interest piqued. "Who?"

"You won't know this, but your father used to be a world-class fighter. No, not a boxer or MMA fighter." He smiled gently at his daughter's baffled expression. "It's called King of Fighters. Should still be running. I used to be one of the champs. Represented Japan along with some friends."

"So what happened?"

"I had a rival. Yeah, like in the movies. He was from an opposing clan. We used to hate each other. Fought each other all the time."

"Did something…occur between you two?"

He laughed but it was sad. "Yeah, something did. Keiko, what I'm going to tell you next…please don't kill me for it."

"What is it, Dad?"

"We kept fighting and fighting and…well…" He scratched the back of his neck, uncertain how his daughter would receive the news. "I guess we fought too much. Got too familiar. Keiko…we fell in love with each other. It was…unexpected."

Keiko's eyes were large with astonishment. "What? You were…"

"Only with him. There were no other men besides him."

He saw his daughter absorbing the information, trying to understand. "This was before you met Mom?"

"It was. Years before I met your mother."

"So what happened?"

"We had to keep it hidden, since we were enemies. Or used to be. My father found out. It…" He closed his eyes, remembering. "It didn't end well." Echoes of Yagami there.

"Dad?"

"My father killed him. But he suffered first. For loving me. Because it was forbidden."

"Is that why…?"

"It's why you only know _Obaasan_. Your grandfather was no longer around."

"You killed him."

"He killed the man I loved, Keiko. Someone who did no wrong."

"That's why you didn't go back. That time."

"Yes. But I promised him before I left…before I came here that I'd return. He has a grave in Osaka. Unless the cemetery is no longer there, I must go back. You understand, right, Keiko?" He looked at his daughter, hoping she'd understand. Not judge him harshly. It would be hard, hearing how the father she knew – the man who loved her mother – also loved a man back in his youth. If she paid close attention, she might've also picked up on the fact that he still carried feelings for this man unknown to her.

He'd never forgotten Yagami. Never.

"What's his name?"

"Iori Yagami. The characters are 'eight' and 'god' for his last name. 'Hermitage' for his first name. Won't be hard to find information on him."

"So you'll be returning? Now that Mom's gone?"

"I love your mother, Keiko. Loving him doesn't preclude that."

"You love him still. You speak so…something changes in your face, Dad. When you speak about him."

"Keiko?"

She reached across and hugged him. "I won't see you again, will I, Dad?"

He closed his arms around her. "It's been a long time. I…"

"When did he die, Dad? How old was he?"

The memory still carried pain but time had softened its harshness. "He was twenty four when he died."

"That's so…young."

"I know. I was only twenty three when he…"

"Go, Dad. I'll be okay by myself."

"You sure? This came so suddenly and all –"

"I feel your pain, Dad." His daughter's arms wound tighter around him. "You made a promise. I can't…it's not my right."

"Keiko…"

"If you don't come back…"

"The will has all the details. Besides division of assets, where I'd like to be buried."

"Dad…"

"I love you, Keiko. Thank you for everything."

His daughter wept. He held onto her, unwilling to let go, if only for this precious space of time. _Thank you, Mariko. Yasu. I love you all._

* * *

Forty three years later, Kyo set foot again in Osaka, Japan.

The city had changed – was even more crowded and urbanized. People everywhere, construction, new buildings standing in spots he hadn't seen before and places he once knew were gone. He couldn't tell until he got within viewing distance from the taxi and as they approached downtown, he noticed the difference.

He was afraid. Afraid the cemetery was no longer the same.

What if Yagami's grave was no longer there? What if earthquakes had happened? Floods? What if the gravestone was unreadable or he forgot where it was?

Fears bit upon him; anxiety beset him.

He found the address of the cemetery online and gave it to the driver. It'd been so long that he wasn't sure if his memory was reliable. The city _had_ changed. He couldn't be too careful.

Streets he once rode his motorcycle upon. Intersections with traffic lights and signs he once knew. After being in America for most of his life, traffic in Osaka seemed new again to him. Here and there walked pedestrians: salarymen, young women, young men, older women with shopping bags or children in hand, juvenile delinquents with mohawks and street fashion, and schoolchildren with chaperones passing by. The whole scene gave him a strange sense of time gone by – looking back into the past via the future.

He felt old. He was old.

The lights changed and the taxi driver continued driving.

Kyo settled back into his seat, glancing out the window. Once, he and Yagami strode upon these streets, through the crosswalks, jostling their way through the crowd. Once, the world had been theirs and they were on top.

But that was several decades ago and the world had changed.

He changed. Yagami was gone before Osaka altered – his death being the most significant shakeup in Kyo's life. So many adjustments after and none he could've foreseen.

Mariko. Wife, mother, partner. Beloved.

Yasu. His boy lost too soon.

Keiko. Forever his little girl – forever the jewel in his eye.

All those blessings. All that love. A new life. A new beginning. He'd been given those and he cherished all of them.

He'd had a good life. A long life.

His mother managed to see his children – became a part of his and their lives – which was another blessing. He'd been forgiven by her for an offense which in most families would've shunned him or had him locked up and executed for murder. Shizuka Kusanagi – a most formidable woman and in the end, the mother he admired and adored.

Terry Bogard. The first he reached out to in America. The first to listen and not judge.

Mary Ryan. The second to know. The second to help – to stand by his side.

The last he knew, both fighters were doing well. Southtown residents for life and still active in the tournament scene. Unlike him, they didn't have any baggage to carry into their fights, so they were able to hold their own against the younger stars.

Benimaru Nikaido.

Goro Daimon.

His former Japan Team teammates. The ones who helped him reunite with Yagami, however short-lived the result was. Beni had taken over his father's position in the family company when the older man retired. Goro was apparently still with his family, enjoying a rich full life.

The taxi pulled by the curb. The total fee showed on the electronic display.

Kyo opened his wallet. It was Yagami's – the leather well-worn, supple and marked with scratches and subtle food and rain stains. He handed the money over. Received his change.

Even the taxi fee had increased.

Getting out of the vehicle, Kyo steered his footsteps towards the cemetery's entrance. A quietness here that he'd forgotten. Rows of gravestones lined evenly along the landscaped and well-maintained grass. His footfalls softer now as he approached. Sunlight through trees. A breeze soft and warm passing through.

There'd been a breeze the day Yagami died all those years before.

Incense wafting from several holders as he walked by. The scent in the air, reminding him of the wake and service. Red carved characters in stones, signifying someone not yet deceased who wanted their ashes and bones buried with the dead. His eyes welled up at the sight. All those years before – Yagami's name in stone, black and stark. Alone.

He continued walking. Somehow, he remembered. At least his feet did.

Eventually, he reached the one gravestone that mattered. The one he'd left forty three years ago when he was twenty three, grieving and bereft.

There was incense in the holder, last of its smoke drifting up. A single yellow chrysanthemum in front of the stone. Chizuru Kagura, who always left a flower for their fellow Sacred Treasure. He knelt down. Extended a hand. Touched the gravestone – ran his fingers over the carved characters of Iori Yagami's name.

All those years ago. This same action.

"I'm back, Yagami. As I promised."

The photograph was faded, exposure to the elements leaching it of color. Yet, he still made out the youthful face, the telltale fall of hair, and the subtle expression the other wore. His heart ached. Dead at twenty four. Iori Yagami: enemy and rival and then lover. Beloved. Always beloved.

The sun shifted behind him, casting his shadow alongside the grave.

He was tired. Remarkably so. Weary.

His fingers slipped off the stone. Fell by his side.

And then, as though Iori Yagami had been waiting for him, as though all the years and distances were only numbers, Kyo thought he heard a voice. Sonorous, serious and full of love, of yearning, of emotions Iori had never been able to vocalize when he was alive.

_"Welcome home, Kyo."_

* * *

**Notes & Comments**

**So, notes first:** The last weight mentioned for Iori in this final chapter is 56 kilograms (approximately 123 lbs.). In Chapter 31, Iori weighed 58 kilograms (approximately 127-128 lbs.).

**Onto the comments now:** With the completion of this fic, this is my first ever completed long fic. Ever. So this is rather momentous for me and as tragic/bittersweet the story turned out, I'm so glad it got finished quite satisfactory (for me, at least). I didn't expect the epilogue to churn out Kyo's last closing arc in such a lengthy way, but in the end, I'm happy. He needed closure.

Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. Shout out to jojoDO for following this story from beginning to end (thank you for the awesome reviews!). It has been an amazing experience.


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